he pressed me for hours, tears leaking from his swollen eyelids, unshaven cheeks haggard in the half-light. I held him tight, the only thing I knew to do, and I tried over and over to say the right thing.

Everything I said was the wrong thing. actions speak louder than words, I whispered to myself and I cupped his face in my hand and with the other hand I squeezed his waist.

On a bench in the park I had finally found him, pretending to sleep, waiting for me so that he could hurt me like I'd hurt him. I hadn't even known I was hurting him, off on a glamorous crusade as I was, traipsing through my last days in heavenly exile, never taking the time to pay quite enough attention

he had been sending me messages, I had tossed off replies like torn butterfly wings, fish scales, autumn leaves.

So we came to the park and I tried to sit but he wouldn't make space for me; I knelt on the ground and he whispered in my ear I read everything you wrote, you're a writer for christ's sake, you didn't write any more than a shit stain to me

I had a gift I'd been saving for weeks, in the pocket of my boot. He took it without a word. I cried, and laughed to find myself crying, and he held me silently. And when our friends came to gather us, he stole my cell phone: insurance, I suppose.

Soon enough I found myself parked outside his house, half-asleep with the seat reclined, and he walked up with hands in pockets and too-big backpack - face slumped onto his chin like a little boy with hurt feelings - and I followed him inside.

I don't know if I'll be able to talk much.
That's okay, I just want to be here.

but of course we did talk, and he pressed me for hours while tears slimed his haggard cheeks, and eventually I sat up and I said,

we can play word games forever, and nothing I say will ever be the right thing. I never had any bad intentions toward you, but I see now how I can have hurt you. I get it. I'm sorry.

the next morning I kissed him and touched him and his embrace turned rougher, more forceful, and I kissed him gently and he thrust his cock down my throat five, six times before he came

we went to lunch

slept again

and this morning he sighed and called me "baby" and kissed me like a lover, and I drove him to work, and I left town again.

today I read
radiohumper


thank god for you