how to fall out of love
on the whittling of feeling– the carving away until there is nothing left–the viscera of watching your language, together, wash away like soap.
the last time we fucked, i did not finish. the act was stubborn– head without reciprocation (our usual protocol). nothing worked. i moaned. i even did that thing with my glasses, arching as far as possible until my spine divorced itself.
mental note:
i'm not a perfect girl.
the actual last time we fucked was post-break up, a form of necromancy. i was not …