Sunday, January 31, 2010
January 31, 2010
I curse you.
I love you.
I hate the fact that I love you this much.
I think you have been angry at me for not being around as often as I used to be.
No need to take it out on me in this way.
The headache I had this morning from my night in your intoxicating embrace was enough.
Why the second, worse round?
I know I haven't been around as much as you would have liked.
I haven't been around as much as I'd have liked.
You are sweet on my lips. I made love to you last night.
And like a women scorned, I am in pain.
Damn you, Gin.
Till we meet again, in some random bar, in some strangers house, in a familiar setting, know this:
I love you but I don't love your wrath.