Losing Love

by Jaina Cipriano


There will be no more firsts left soon, I whisper as you sleep.

I am slick with sweat, sandwiched between you and the couch as I watch the fire roar. I’m not sure if you heard me but you smile and kiss my forehead. I like how your skin feels -  feverish from the heat of the fire and our sex. There is so much I see that you cannot and the longer I am silent the more alone I feel. 


My eyeballs slide from their sockets and roll to the floor, looking for a clue on how to stop feeling this afraid every day. You seem to do it, maybe you're hiding your secrets under the couch. 


When you woke from your nap and saw that they were gone, you kissed right above each crater, telling me how wonderful I was, your friends didn’t have girlfriends like me.


I pulled my lips into a thin smile, how blessed I am to be different. 

You find my eyes locked in a staring contest with your dog on the kitchen floor. You rinse them off and push them back into my head. I still don't know anything new. Then I see you, inches from my face, smiling reverently like I was something holy to behold and I want to cry but my eyes are too dry.



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