sean

Stumbling in from the rain, throwing our wet clothes down on the hardwood floors, the plastic-burning smell of electric heaters, I happily distort your lust into affection, as if though I deserved it.

Your naked body, a perfect, ivory essay in white, the only color, two quick pink brush stroked nipples as contrast, just to prove your starkness. The way your hip bones feel in my rough grip as I kiss your stomach, your quick nervous inhales.

Rain heavy and sheeting on the steamed up windows, that tiny room in that tiny apartment, lit by the candle by your bed and the screensaver of fireworks on your computer.

I wrap you up in my arms and squeeze you so tight you know nothing can ever hurt you again.

But I can't hold on to that moment, it slips away from me, and we stand leaning against the stone seawall under the unforgiving Greek sun, and I'm crying as you look up into my eyes because I know you don't love me. You rub my forearm with your little hands, recounting every slight, every screw-up, every minor cruelty and insensitive remark catalogued in the miraculous database of the human female heart.

Still wet I can erase the memories with the right chemicals, but those that have already set will make me cringe no matter how much damage I inflict trying to forget them.