By: DJ Hopson
I sit in the most unromantic place I can find,
the bathroom.
I just put the seat down and sit there
with my hand out the window
to feel the wind collide with my fingers.
There is no romance in the wind,
no love, no desire.
There is no scent of the man
who I use to sleep next to.
There is no pressure of his hand on my waist.
The wind gave a new pressure –
the changing of direction.
Then came the rain.
The wetness reminded me of his sweat
and I can still feel his slippery skin.
So slippery it slipped
away from my hands long ago.
Into the rain gutter and gone.
