He appears in the mirror behind me
and lifts my hair as I brush my teeth.
Kisses the back of my neck
with a lingering brush of lips.
I close my eyes tightly as I can,
try not to flinch away from this
unauthorized intimacy.
And I don’t know when we reached
this place where intimacy must be
Authorized,
stamped with approval,
but here we are and my mind is
screaming at the violation.
My arms tense, eager to
push away, resist, escape.
I rinse my mouth and hastily
slide right out under his arm
before he pilfers a goodnight kiss.
Everything is the same,
every press of skin or lips or words
but nothing feels soft and tender
as before.
We are entirely too close,
breathing the same stale air of the apartment.
I suddenly need the cold air and the
familiar smoke in my lungs
so I dart out the balcony doors.
I inhale shakily and see all the
dark windows of my neighbors.
How can they sleep with the restlessness
and the stifling air that I am sure permeates
the entire city, hell, maybe
the entire country.
I don’t know, but I do know that I
need a fucking cigarette, so I
light one and set it between my lips.