burns

black bean soup, cafe con leche, swirled espresso, the egg pan, sunshine, no umbrella, new suede shoes in the rain, them so happy together, his absence, his endless parade of plans with others, fuck, fuck, fuck me.

,

the cuban restuarant we ambled into was perfect. free of hustle and bustle, we ate european style. the minutes stretched into hours and there was no where we had to be, which I love, and we enjoyed everything. my friend smelled the cigar smoke from the back, and we thought that was perfect. the flan was cold and smooth and it relieved some of the flash burning that my tongue endured from the cafe con leche.

;

I have hated for so long. I wonder what it will take for me to love again. I don't trust them, the men. They can tell. I look like a frightened animal in a stand-off, stuck between running and wondering if I don't move long enough they'll go away. He doesn't mean to hurt me, but he's too selfish not to, so we tousle and in the end, it will be a devastation that I gave myself away one more time. I wish that it could be different, but he's not different, neither am I.

[the cat]

I enter through the back door, that I know will be open, so I don't have to ring the bell at the front door, so I won't scare him under the bed and into fervent unapproachable hiding. He sleeps during the day, so I expect I might rouse him from the couch cushions, but before I can find him, he wanders into the kitchen from somewhere at the sound of my voice.

I wonder, can it be, does he recognize my voice, does he know me? he leaps onto the table to get a closer view and smell my purse, and he seems to be watching me, his ears seem to be straining to listen to my voice, and I love him. Seeing him again reminded me how very much I loved him. Sometimes when there was no one I could relate to, he was there for me and I would pet him, he would purr and there was love between us.

it was like no time had passed, and we two were in our own world of enjoyment and pleasure, me from his timid exploration of my feet and him for the scratching along his spine which I know he loves. Every time I see him I wonder if I will ever see him again. Yet, I have no right to ask to see him more.

[the man I love]

ditto.

"

if only it was as simple as with the cat. if only I could be so understanding when it came to him.