there’s blood on your sheets and it’s not mine
by Sine Qua Non
What’s wrong, you ask. What’s up with the I’m-not-so-amused face. What’s up is that I can’t seem to get over the fact that you got blood on your sheets and I’m pretty sure they’re not my stains. What’s wrong is that it’s been days, a week even, and I thought I was okay but here I am sitting on your bed, on the spot where I didn’t sit the last time so I know some other girl sat and bled where I sit now. What I’m no longer amused at is this. I mean, I’m really fond of you, if it isn’t quite obvious yet. I find the time I spend with you absolutely delightful. All the conversations, beautiful arguments, temporally displaced meals, shots of scotch, whiffs of weed, moving music, divine lovemaking, and all the things I no longer need to enumerate. And though I knew, when I carefully tiptoed my way into this thing we have right now, that I do not have you to myself exclusively and though I thought I’m completely settled with that fact, apparently right now, in these recent days, maybe unknowingly in the past weeks, months even, some nagging feeling has sparked up the messed-up hopeful in me and got me thinking, hey, well maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to have you all to myself. But that’s not the point. Because what I assume is that that’s not something you’d sign up for. It’s just kind of shitty when you have the truth sort of present itself to your face and smother your freshly showered body with its filthy, bloody, mess. So I’m wondering now, whether you’re completely insensitive that you bother not to clean up before the next girl walks in so that I would, upon arrival, marvel at your wonderfully played polygamy or you’re messing up with me and testing the limits of what I would put up with or it’s just something you just totally pay no attention to. So now that I’m barely into grips with this I now am left clueless as to how to proceed in this relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I am not going to lash out at you for being so prolific with your other bedmates it’s just that I’ve fallen so utterly beyond recovery that I am quite afraid of losing the awesome pleasure of your company but I feel that I might just end up damaged after all of this. So, now, all I really need is to know now is where I stand with you. Maybe after that, I would know how to proceed. Or how not to.