hard,
quiet,
cracked open from the inside out.
My body spasms,
soaking his fingers,
and his eyes grin with satisfaction.
Cruel. Undeniable. Victory in a stare.
And I slump into his hand?—
boneless, weightless, useless.
For a moment,
I don’t remember what I came here for.
Or what I was even mad about.
“You needed it, baby,” he says.
Needed me.Needed this.
A climax to pull the covers over what he can't control.
The words IV-drip into my bloodstream.
He finally pulls his hands away.
Gone.
As if he was never inside me at all.
Then he’s humming.
Hotel California.
The same song he used to hum
in the hallways at home.
In the kitchen.
In the shower.
In my bedroom in the middle of the night.
He hums while fixing his cuffs,
when he takes the pen,
when he signs the goddamn transfer.
As if it was never about the money.
