She knows. She listens to time that he finds
so fascinating. The tick and tock scream the
passing of every second. His moments – devious, present, orgasmic and full;
Hers – a……slow……..dragging……through…..hell –
a red light when you’re late for a job where you’ve already been
written up for tardiness.
In the space of her 4th chakra, there is a chamber
that echoes the pain and knows that his 2nd chakra
is oblivious right now, wrapped up like it is in
his pleasure. She smells the leather of her sofa death,
imagines his post-coital calm as he sleeps
in another dimension, and she lies
torturously awake. Yesterday seemed
safe and free…tethered to the earth by magic
thread, so that they could explore without being lost in the
space-time continuum. Exploring the universe works only if you
can find your way home, or don’t care
about drifting where you might not be found.
Still, she loves.
And worries whether or not the magic tether still holds her
or has freed itself from the mooring.
Still, she loves.
