my life has been spent waiting by the telephone. being the other woman isn’t as black and white as society thinks. we don’t seek it out like a treasure chest. the X finds us. the bubblegum packets are hidden amongst the clothes we stripped off and discarded.

thoughts of the diner 
burnt my throat like straight vodka
kissing my shot glass 

when we have a secret rendezvous in the back of his car, all we can think about is being free. there is something bittersweet about finding our feet in a situation that’ll see him on the streets. he shakes his packet of lucky strikes, lighting up with a match that falls out of his pocket with a poker chip.

if we’re gonna be 
here for a while, we may 
as well enjoy it 

the world spins on a candy cane, too fast and too hard. we ain’t bad…