Tonight with you is not our big white bed.
Tonight is about fucking in the back of a car in a dirty parking lot before we go to a party and after I texted you asking to get coffee but
you suggested we get something stronger
Tonight is now about a bottle of vodka in the parking lot in the car that has seen us both naked many times before
Tonight is about catching up about the past year and all of our hurt and as you shove yourself inside of me
I think about our clean white bed.
A big bed in the sunny room where our love sprouted like little beans and grew up into each corner of the room’s walls as we watered and nurtured the seeds.
Now, today, tonight, the fire of our past hatred has died down as we relive our breakup and find our mouths now turning into laughter not scowls.
Long ago it may seem to you but, for me, I still feel the sting of your gaze now as easily as I felt it then when you so abruptly tore up our garden.
In the time since we broke up, I festered in hatred and felt fire on my heart as you did a devil’s dance around the crackling pit, stomping and cheering and laughing
I am forgiving now. In hindsight, I did my fair share of uprooting the beans we planted together.
I catch myself feeling like I should forgive you now as I see our shared experience...
As the bottle of vodka, Tito’s- because of course you remembered my favorite, is emptied into our mouths and seeps into our bodies we become warm
It is half a bottle deep o’clock and we relive all of our hurt, yes, but we also raise high each other’s beauty, reminiscing about each and every little happy we had during our love.
I look at your familiar and beautiful face and feel a misguided sense of happiness because I recognize your beauty.
I know this beauty.
I love this beauty but I know your stare has evil behind it- baggage from the drugs and the parties and the darkness you love.
It is familiar and it feels good and
The moment you ask to kiss me is the moment I see our Big White Bed.
I flash to unadulterated happiness and clean love with a soundtrack playing Drake’s earliest mixtapes.
My mind snaps back, my body can no longer think, as you slam me into the dirty car floor and insert yourself into me.
I’m so warm and jiggly that I don’t even know where my clothes had run off to.
I want this, I want you.
I watch you, next, as you groan and scream and come from my touch because I am responsible and I did this and I have the power to make it stop or start as I please.
But you look at me and I again I feel dirty.
I know how this is of gross misconduct and I look at you, suddenly, like the woman I loved.
I want to be in our big white bed so this can end in forehead kisses and caressing but I stop because I know it’ll end in a menthol cigarette and a hard gaze at my body as you put back in your gold hoops the size of my fist.
I want you but I don’t want dirty car sex.
I get up and see this car has recently been cleaned. The crumbs have been hand vacuumed and someone has taken a rag to wipe this dashboard clean.
But this car is not dirty.
It is you.