Feb 22, 2018
I hate when he has to go to work. It makes it difficult when I wake up trembling from another nightmare. It’s so lonely. I didn’t hear him say, “I love you” as he went. Only noticed the cold stalk into the room and grip my body, once he left.
The “other man” in my life; he has this sickly sweet voice, and only speaks in whispers. His voice is like settling into rigid arms. His very existence mocks empathy and warmth. Just behind his warm skin-gloves, there’s an electric ice touch that keeps me paralyzed. He keeps me complacent and relaxed.
