the resale value of a wedding dress

a low bed adjacent to a window, in a dark room.  a man is lying on it, smirking at me.  he is all length- long limbs, long eyelashes, long silences.

i am a bit older now, a bit more worn.  i think of you, and my heart is crushed.

almost spitefully, i lie down beside him.  immediately, my anger is smothered by desire, and i pull him on top of me.  his hair glints gold in the light that streams through the small window, and his lips are near enough to kiss.

i think about cheating.  i pretend it’s not happening.

but there is the weight of a man above me, pinning my legs and arms, and his body heat is driving me to distraction.  i count his heartbeat slowly against mine, minutes of matching tempo.  the space between our mouths counts down to millimeters.

nothing is happening, i tell myself.  nothing is happening.

i’m not cheating on you.  i’m not cheating on you.  i’m not cheating on you.  

but now i’ve lost control of my body and my back is arching, my hipbones grind against his, and somehow i am guiding him inside me and in this moment i know i have crossed a line and lost you.  i fuck him with reckless abandon, swimming further and further out to sea.  i know there is no rescue now, no way of turning back.  i am a tigress at a common table with her fate, and there is no tenderness in the way my nails rake across his skin and my breath comes out in ragged gasps that seem alien in this quiet room.  he pins my arms back and his teeth find a home against my neck.  his hands grip my hips and he pushes me onto my hands and knees with a fury i match, my knuckles drawing white against the bed frame.  our bodies run slick with heat, we only speak in moans.

i think about how you used to whisper baby, i love you.