He was not coming back – she had reached that conclusion months ago. But in the midst of it all, the unyielding possibility that his coarse mahogany boots would dribble against the floor and she would be sitting on the couch – that she had bought before him – waiting for him, she decided it was better to keep the jar of marmalade half-eaten, in case he returned.
Last night, the cold cornered me and pinned me down; I barely had time to greet hello. I thought it rude but winter does that to you. To your head, to your body, to the parts of us we rarely think about. It makes us undone. I plopped down on the snow, legs giving out, tired of standing up for things I never believed in. I made his lips buzz last night.
New Media Journalist & occasional poet. Intrigued by conflict journalism. Curating the unfiltered consolidation of my consciousness. Just enjoy. Now in New York, NY. Follow @aprilmayparker
