New year, new words.
Raising myself from the bed. Raising myself from her side. This strangers side. Consistent sentences that add nothing new to the narrative. A long night. All night long. I sit on the edge of her bed, where the sheets are most exposed. Duvet half on the floor. Amongst the clothes. Amongst the sin. I roll a cigarette and pour myself some whiskey. Dirty glass, dirty lungs. I move over to the window. Inhaling nicotine and releasing it into the morning air. The stale room would suffocate the beauty of the smoke. I put the whiskey to my lips and drink.
She watches me, as I stand in my boxers marked with the words 'Calvin Klein.' This is my name to her. Might as well be. Might as well be. She observes me. Single piercing, single tattoo, single cigarette, double whiskey. This is me at my most masochistic. Drinking and inhaling my own self pity. Taking on hers. The stranger who continues to watch me, silent.
"What are you?" She asks through lips smudged with lipstick.
"A cliché," I tell the stranger.
&&& All he wants to tell her is, "Care for me."
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