“leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them." – Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell, a poem by Marty McConnell.
problems
Quickies in New York: Mean, Nasty, and Filthy
LinkQuickies in New York: Mean, Nasty, and Filthy
See, I have a major infidelity fantasy, if you will. And in my head it goes a lot like this. Except, executing it seems nearly impossible, potentially dangerous, etc. I’m sure there’s ways to do it, but I don’t have a consistent partner right now that it would make sense with or anything.
I don’t know. I’ve got a few fantasies I have trouble articulating or reenacting outside of my head. Mostly because they’re, uh, kind of really risky.
But, damn, doesn’t QNY make it so fucking hot?
She called me to tell me she had fucked the waiter.
This was before poly, before honesty, and before understanding. It was before graduation when self-awareness was still something we’d do when we got older.
I asked if he had left and she said just barely, so I was out the door before I knew…
I have a very large, pronounced lower lip that I’ve gotten into the pattern of biting. It’s a bad habit of mine, but other people don’t seem to mind.