another year down

The full moon laughs at my exhaustion. It’s my birthday and as I wait away the tick tock alone at home, alone how I needed to be, it cracks a little, this feisty stubborn heart. And it feels a little ill, all the way up and down and it’s still stubborn. It’s stubborn enough to call it hunger. Just hunger for pizza. I find the restaurant that’s usually empty and wait for my friend. The tables are huge at the back where it’s dark and the Italian rubs his belly as he looks me up and down and tells me I can smoke inside. There’s a crackly radio playing loud cheap romance. I open the wine and drink straight from the bottle while no one is watching until she’s here and she watches and I’m home in her arms and she lets me break a little in the spots where it’s safe to, where it can mend itself and she holds my hand and walks me home where he is, but he isn’t really and the leather sofa is cooler in this sticky night, sticky web, his sticky arms don’t feel right. And the dreams come knocking pretty soon, they come cackling into my throat until his hand comes to wake me and he’s not so sticky anymore. In the morning, I’m thankful for the sun, even though she’s fierce and I feel like I have my strength back for both of us. I feel like I miss him. I feel like I haven’t seen him in days. And even though I’ll see him tonight, I’m worried I won't see him all that soon again at all.