I met her through a friend one night. We hit it off almost straight away, then she left. I didn’t see her for months, maybe she’d lost my number. She’d probably forgotten me.
Until one night, at the club, there she was. Before I could even ask her where she’d been, our lips were locked together. That taste. Now I remembered the taste. Unusual at first, I would grow to love it.
After that I would see her the occasional weekend. We met by coincidence, once every few weeks or so. I began to miss her, and started calling her every second weekend or so.
It was a strange relationship. She didn’t stay around for long; she’d always be gone by the morning, she’d leave me feeling alone.
The more I saw her, the more I wanted to see her. She stayed with me for a whole weekend once. It was a long weekend, she insisted on seeing me every night, yet she’d be gone each morning.
On the last night of that weekend things turned strange. She was playing tricks on me. Making me paranoid.
Why was she doing this to me?
This time she left me lonely and lost. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t hear from her for a couple of weeks after that. Then she came back, just like before. Every weekend sometimes. The days without her were dull. Unimportant. During the weekdays while I waited to see her again the only thing fighting off boredom was the paranoia creeping up on me.
She was playing tricks on me again. I should have known.
Then one day I’d had enough. I stopped calling her.
She still stops by once every couple of months, for a quick fuck. I know not to get too involved. I know now, this isn’t love, it’s just mindless sex. But I love it this way.
Until one night, at the club, there she was. Before I could even ask her where she’d been, our lips were locked together. That taste. Now I remembered the taste. Unusual at first, I would grow to love it.
After that I would see her the occasional weekend. We met by coincidence, once every few weeks or so. I began to miss her, and started calling her every second weekend or so.
It was a strange relationship. She didn’t stay around for long; she’d always be gone by the morning, she’d leave me feeling alone.
The more I saw her, the more I wanted to see her. She stayed with me for a whole weekend once. It was a long weekend, she insisted on seeing me every night, yet she’d be gone each morning.
On the last night of that weekend things turned strange. She was playing tricks on me. Making me paranoid.
Why was she doing this to me?
This time she left me lonely and lost. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t hear from her for a couple of weeks after that. Then she came back, just like before. Every weekend sometimes. The days without her were dull. Unimportant. During the weekdays while I waited to see her again the only thing fighting off boredom was the paranoia creeping up on me.
She was playing tricks on me again. I should have known.
Then one day I’d had enough. I stopped calling her.
She still stops by once every couple of months, for a quick fuck. I know not to get too involved. I know now, this isn’t love, it’s just mindless sex. But I love it this way.
