Things Not Belonging to Me; Part One

The first in a series of I don't know how many.

Things Not Belonging to Me

 

There were a pair of black sandals ravaged by the concert,

Purple pants drunkenly complimented,

A jacket with pictures of cassettes on it,

And the black top zigzagging in the back that I met him in"

None of which belonged to me.

 

I had hands curled around biceps,

Shaking white knees around shoulders,

The word “no” that continued over the course of the night,

Unheard as blankets slipped and wood creaked,

So it did not belong to me.

 

It was a blistering pain in the core,

A steady rhythm of sighs and meaningless promises,

And the sensation of warm blood seeping from between my legs,

But they did not belong to me.

 

He walked away a day later,

And now after five months,

There is my barista friend’s spit in his coffee,

Shallow breathing and tears late at night,

The pain in my chest

When that scraggly brown mop of hair passes,

Because he has my innocence,

But nothing about him belongs to me.