Good-bye

I searched for soil. I needed it. The porcelain was shining, the towels were fresh, and the tile spot free. I needed dirt, evidence somewhere that you hadn’t really scrubbed your entire day away in anticipation of my arrival. I needed proof that I didn’t hold that kind of hope for you.

It was a kiss, not a promise. I slipped. I slid into a life that should not have wanted me, but did…you do. I’m not who you think. I’m not the warm body missing from your bed. I’m not the one meant for the clean towel tomorrow.