decaf.
notes from a life on repeat
He found me downstairs in the early morning.
I was in the kitchen brewing coffee.
If I only knew how to work that pot,
he would still be sleeping softly.
He made love to me,
and then fucked me a few hours ago.
But I imagined you and I believe he knows.
Something about him when he wakes up,
he appears rather lonely.
I force a smile,
hand him his cup,
and I pretend that we are happy.
91113
