infidelity

	Amy Winehouse   I Heard Love Is Blind   Frank

How do I say this without hurting you? I cheated on you last night with the ghost of lovers past. I was looking through some old letters and I started recreating these scenes in my mind. Letters, pictures, movie tickets and condom wrappers- I was hoarding memories, certain that love is always too fleeting to remember, too moody to contain.

I laid out all the letters on my bedroom floor and for a while, I was just sitting there, wondering where their writers were. Do they still think of me? I closed my eyes and touched myself. I tried to remember how each kiss felt, how each moan sounded. Do my lovers touch themselves when they remember me?

He came out of nowhere. When I opened my eyes, he was in front of me, inviting me, seducing me. He took my hand and led me to the bed. He whispered words in my ear, words I often wish you could say. I believed him for once upon a time, those words were true. He was true and so I let him do what he wanted.

He touched me in all the familiar places. His mouth traveled from my lips to my ears, my neck and the small of my back. He hit me like he used to when I was younger. The shear weight of his arm sent me flying. More, I begged him and he hit me again. Each strike set my skin on fire. Each bruise felt like I was coming closer to my true home.

I entered him with force and abandon. It felt just like it used to. As I pushed myself in and out, I realized the rhythm was familiar. It was a song my heart once sang to. I still knew all the words.

He was getting closer and closer to climaxing. I could tell in the way his legs were tensing up. I tried to focus on coming, too but I couldn’t. I started losing interest. I started realizing my mistakes. His face to the heavens, he couldn’t tell that I was no longer into it. I started getting soft. My heart and my body were too in sync to continue.

And then a curious thing happened. I thought of you. I thought of what we have. I thought of all the things I wanted to do to you and I got hard again. I thought of the life we could have together if we only got over our fears. I thought about your face, the lines pulsating each time I thrust into the ghost’s being. I imagined your face on his, recreating your eyes, your nose and your lips from shear memory.

I thought of you and I came. I exploded inside the ghost; my seed flying into the air, sullying the letters and pictures on the floor. I picked them up and tossed them into the trash. It was high time I threw them out anyway. Though they kept me warm through the many cold nights before I called your heart my home, the second hand ticking on the clock tells me there’s no use holding on to them anymore. I’m letting them go, love. I’m sorry it took this long. I’m letting them go to let you in.

Till next time, said the ghost as he put on his shirt.

There won’t be a next time, I promised.

There will always be a next time, he said, a smile on his face as he disappeared into the darkness.

Photo Credit: embrace