Postcard on jealousy

I say I won’t be jealous. She says good. Then she does something designed to set me wild. The day after, I say, fuck it, I was jealous. We will get drunk again together. I will be jealous of the glass she holds delicately in her hand if nothing else incites me. It is not what she does; it is the way she does it.

Published in: on March 25, 2008 at 11:57 am  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Wait, what did I do last night?

  2. Nothing.

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