Recent romances

fig. 1: Like rich­ness pil­ing inward; life unto your­self.
I was in church eat­ing eggs off my lap while this guy was watch­ing. But he couldn’t smell them, buttery—that was just for me.

fig. 2: Like how a hand can only touch you one place at a time.
I wanted to bury a knife in the side­walk. Instead, I walked to the hill­side and dug up the fresh­est roots I could find. There is no good time to save; no such sea­son as shortage.

fig. 3: Like recov­ery.
I peed my pants in my own bed­room. Pud­dled on the wood floor. I couldn’t stop it, I was curi­ous. I had to pee so bad I was mostly relieved. It wasn’t dif­fi­cult to clean up.

fig. 4: Like being per­fo­rated.
We sat under a tarp that seemed to draw its breath with the wind. It pressed up against branches, try­ing to stay longer, then sagged a darker blue. He gave me his num­ber. Bless him, his voice tremors of brav­ery, a tantrum folded in his hand.

fig. 5: Like it’s the first time.
I woke up peal­ing your bell.