grudge

it was the angriest I had ever been.

the blood steamed inside me.

a daisy chain of bad thoughts,

one connecting to the next, boiling up

until I felt

the tingle

the tingle

right before the eyes ignite.

and she gave me her look, the

special one where her eyes turn to

milky saucers and she asks if I can

ever forgive her.

I used to have a list of forgiveness,

but I lost count, and threw the

book

away.

when we had those arguments, the only

thing that brought us down was fucking.

we’d label it:

‘one for the road’

‘one for old time’s sake’

like we were never going to do it again.

my mind eased, softened,

and the blood left,

went somewhere else.

I pulled it out

and tore at her panties,

ripping the lace, and threw her down on

the floor

and I fucked her

and

fucked her

and

fucked her

until she cried that she couldn’t take

it anymore.

then I pulled it out and slammed it in her

pussy

and fucked her

and fucked her

and fucked her

until she started to pant,

and I refused to give her anymore.

“what’s the matter with

you?”

“I’m not giving it all to

you,” I said between breaths.

“you 

bastard!”

“yeah.”