Honey
His legs turned left and mine right, walking towards the warmth of my house, his coordinates I knew no longer. Before that his legs turned east before him. I said goodbye at the door; I climbed the stairs to my room, to clean traces of everything that exploded that day. Sorry to say, but our explosion did not end in a mere sexual act. I can begin by telling you how it all began because I started from the end, or an intermediate, depriving myself of advancing. The crystals covered his eyes and his beard did not cover his smile. The green made him speak and the coat did not take away his cold. His hand brushed against me, and I do not mean just my hand— brushed against my cold, my skin, my night, even against my will. I had a stupid look, but did not pay attention, even avoided him. Just trying to concentrate on cigarettes and white clouds of smoke that we formed. I preferred to see his breath or mine, or both, taking a single shape or watching the stars that fell, to see his face, and...