And I don't see why that hurts.
I don't see how my self-sufficiency opposes romance. I romance myself. With the rain, uncalled, and the evening breeze. With the umbrella that shields, and shoes that bite- I don't need hickies. My neck is full- of questions unanswered, and answers I knew. I know my limits- none that stand. I know where to touch, my hands don't need direction. They're long, they're thick.
I know I'm alone, but the rain knows that too. And she falls, she lingers, she curves- behind car windows, and bedrooms and sheets, behind diary pages, pens and books.
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