something more for me than this emptiness I bring
around with me.
I approach a table with three girls where the one
who was waiting for me the other night happened
to be when I ignored all the bells going off in my
head and I went to Erin instead of having some fun
with that one.
Two lines of chat, another round on the house,
and she’s already on my bike with her arms around
my waist.
I go to her place and I don’t even have my foot
in the door and I’m on her. I’m hungry and all I
want to do is lose myself and get that image of
Erin rubbing her rounded belly out of my fucking
head.
I kiss her, I bite her, I undress her of what little
she’s wearing before hitting the bedroom. I give
her a light push to lay her out before me and I
jump on her as if she were my prey, as if tasting
her would satiate me, would give me back what I
had and what I threw away for a pair of dark eyes.
She unbuttons my jeans and takes my top off
saying something about my tattoos but I can’t hear
her. I can’t feel her … her hands, her wet tongue
playing around just where it shouldn’t be.
I don’t feel anything except an echo of contempt
that I feel with myself right now. As I try to drown
a soul that is trying hard to stay afloat, that’s
begging for help and finally lets go of the hand of
who’s trying to pull him out of the water.
