This love is falling apart

I couldn’t be that far. On my way out I smoked two cigarettes. Add that to your daily list of things. One. He smoked two cigarettes on his way out. Two. I feel nothing. Three. I stopped the elevator between floors to cry, hoping that somebody would hear me. Four. Nobody heard me. I wept and I wept until my weep turned into gibberish. Five. I am not weeping in the house. Six. He might hear me and ask questions. […] Twenty-nine. He used the red towel today. Thirty. He never uses the red towel on Wednesday. Fifty-five. Too much aftershave. The smell is like a blanket.

I am far enough. People can’t see me here because I don’t belong to them.

Sixty-three. Sang in the bathroom today. Sixty-four. Showered longer than usual. Took a peek through the keyhole. Memo to myself: hide the red towel. Take it out only on Wednesday.

She is probably looking through the keyhole. She hid the red towel under the blue towel. I have nothing to say about that. Really. I need to have some sleep. Alone. In the bathtub. I am afraid to love her. She might crumble. How can I not do that. Really.

126. This should stop. 127. I am afraid to love him. 128. He might crumble. 130. Really.

I left the keys where she left them. On the table.

140. I left the keys where he left them. 141. On the table.

I look into the mirror.

167. I look into the mirror.

We are like twins.

189. We are like twins.

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5 responses

  1. 190 that which you don’t see has the miraculous talent of fashioning itself invisible while that which you see is like the guilty grinning of the invisible. Thanks for stopping by. Do keep in touch! Rob.

  2. Pingback: 2010 in review « Robertmoscaliuc's Blog

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