My Current Partner asks about my First Love
and immediately I can smell the stench
of Marlboro Golds in my long, unwashed
hair. I think of Matchbox Twenty and getting
high on Christmas Eve right before walking
into his mother’s third new house in two years.
I think of neon sex toys, cat hair, and one unsuccessful
blowjob in the movie theatre. I don’t even remember
the name of the film. I think of Arizona – how miserable
it is in July. How ironic it was staying in Paradise Valley
while we were living in an opiate hell.
I think of satin pillowcases and soapy hands –
how gently he washed my hair in the sink
when we were homeless. I think of hotel
sheets and takeout. I think of driving
with no destination.
I think of weight loss, sleeping never
or for forever. I think of overdosing -
the disappointment that came with waking
up realizing not even I could do that properly.
I think of him getting sent away. How I’d stayed.
Here is what I meant to say:
I am reaching out for him in the dark,
Andrea Lawler is a poet, essayist, feminist, crazy cat lady, and small town girl with a big heart. She holds a degree in English Language & Literature. While not writing about sex and death, you can find her at the local coffee shop.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.