He had such a way, hitting the uncomfortable nail on the head.

He fed me gin, first. I am so weak for gin.

~

"I dreamed of this," he breathed hoarsely in my ear, "when I was alone in the shower."

His fist is in my hair, gripping hard, more pain than I'm used to. I'm not complaining.

"My god," he says, hot breath against the soft velvet skin of my breast, "but you are beautiful."

I hadn't showered in days. My hair was a mess, I wore no make-up, and my legs were at least a week covered in stubble.

~

I did not sleep that night, so unused to another body in my bed that I was. He didn't sleep either, though every so often he would turn to me, and grip my body tightly against his. His spine curved around mine, and his forearms crossed my belly, bigger and wider than my former lover.

I was not his, and he was not mine, and yet, there was a thread of connection there.

~

His teeth were sharp, but he never bit for long.

"Rosie, Rosie," he breathed, staring past my face. He was as good as blind without his glasses. "I missed you."

I murmur something in return, but my mind is on G.

~

"G is stupid," our mutual friend tells me. "In fact, my husband likes to say he's so stupid he could fall in to a bucket full of tits, and come out sucking his thumb."

~

"What are you insecure about?" he asks.

"My upper arms," I tell him. "My big nose." I tap the thin in question. "What are you afraid of?"

Silently, he taps his temple.

I didn't see it then, but I see it now.

What a moron.

~

Wine, then wine, then wine, then wine.

I'm drunk, and I need to sleep.

.

~Rosie.

Before&After