Shivering through the chilly night, he trudges his way through the dark, musty lanes, up the fleet of endless stairs and reaches at my doorstep. I am waiting to be rescued; another time, another night. I tell myself it's not a new face, he has just been eating well. The eyes are always the same. My cheap perfume tries ever so hard to camouflage his breath. The tornado passes quickly, wrecking a little more of what's left. Just a parenthesis. Brutally loved but never the first choice. I rescued him. Not all fairy tales end the same.
Waiting to be rescued
Another time, another night
41 lovers and no letters...
