Anniversaries, Shirtless

Our anniversary is on the least convenient day and we celebrate in the kitchen, by not even leaving the house.

My parents say things like, “You shouldn’t be here,” or they ask as a question: “Should you be here?” and “What are you doing?” and “What colour is that? Beige?”

But there’s never been a misplaced skin piece, an unadorned plateful. And the day I wake wishing you dead, well, that’s the day I leave and not seconds before, on someone’s command, without alternatives, suggestions.

You button the back of my dress and help me tie my laces. You’re a lot older than I am.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s