"It's over", my voicemail says. A clean cut. Communication can’t do it. Voicemail can. Takes a mere cut to break a heart, but more than a broken heart to bleed. Broke my heart. You bleed.
Ringggggg.
Open door.
Bang.
"You’re dead."
Aaah, the power of personal communication. Now that’s what I call a clean cut.
__________
The love of my previous life
Every night, he comes to me. I can't see him, but I feel him. On my neck. Between my shoulder blades. In places I can't mention here. Before I know it, he's gone. Paltry microseconds of pleasure. Tonight, I have to know who he is.
Feather touch.
Nip.
"Sigh."
Bite.
Dang it, he's an ant!
__________
Secret desires
Today's the day. No more promises of tomorrow. No more waiting. Both victims of loveless marriages. And middle age. He's all I want forevermore. Finally, we're together.
Touch.
Caress.
"Moan."
Hands everywhere.
"Darling, look at this beautiful sari-- what the hell is going on?!"
Meet my wife. She just found out I'm a closet gay.
