Ours

I just let him hold me. Fell effortlessly into the shape of his arms. Cradled in the stench of his lust. I just let him love me. Knowing it was temporary. Seized the day as it were. I just let him love me. Because I had never been closer. To such a thing.

It's not mine now. It never was. Even as I fondle it in words carefully selected. Tracing every frail hint of affection in permanent ink. Drawing on this onion skin I call my life. As what it's pressed against shimmers vaguely through.

In the chemical blizzards that smother memories in art. Perfectly resigned to the years that turn lovers into lessons.

I ask myself how I could have loved him. But I don't want an answer.