anyone’s for the keeping.

Photo by Ander Burdain on Unsplash

he presses a

two-minute-old

cigarette to the

nape of my

neck to re-

mind me he

thinks that

i am at his

fingertips.

sometimes,

i snicker at

the ideology

that i am any-

one’s for the

keeping. i

see him in

passing and

i do not act

less passive.

the bane

of existence

yet the source

of genetic

composition

— a constant

reminder that

he could have

done better but

he didn’t and

i leave it at

that.

☽