I’ll never understand how something
so intricately intimate can feel
empty
as I pull the covers over my bare skin and curl up away from him, staring
at his snake slithering around its cage-
we both forgot its name months ago.
He sighs and slaps my ass hard once like
a football player congratulating me on
a game well played
and its hard to
remember that once upon a time
there were butterflies
and blushes
and kisses I could feel down to
my toes
and soul
that he once called me
beautiful every chance he got,
he never forgot to say goodnight,
and bought me my favorite colored roses on Valentines day, got everything right.
Now I swear he pets his cat more than
he touches me and lets me
walk myself to my car in a bad neighborhood at two a.m without a goodnight kiss
and it hurts to realize my
“maybe this time” turned into this.

“bad neighborhood”- jessicagadziala

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