anthem to the night we fucked under the moon, you bitch.
i found you in the alley at three in the morning some years ago. a poor excuse of an alcoholic. we fucked in between a local bakery and the bar i go to some nights when i’m not interested in being myself. i remember, because you found the postmarked stamps on my shoulder blades. you asked me where i was going right while your cock was halfway in my mouth and i mumbled some smart ass comment about how hell couldn’t take me no longer and i was shipped back to earth as a compromise to the almighty god. there were church bells chiming when you came inside me.
you left your number somewhere in the architecture of my vertebrae. i called you the next night, drunk off my ass with a glass of whiskey in my hand and my panties already around my ankles. something along the lines of,
you said something back along the lines of, “i’m on my way.” and you were. i looked out the window and saw you in between the ladder to the moon and each and every noose hanging from the some two hundred million stars that are born every night and tried to find you somewhere, anywhere, but the only thing i could find was the ghost of your cock still left in my cunt and if i closed my eyes tight enough, fucked myself hard enough, i could remember the feel of you.
that’s all you are anymore.
a ghost inside my cunt.