And the sad part is that if I walk around town, I have more chances to see that damn painting hanging on a church’s door, than see Jude anywhere else.

 I spill my coffee. Jude doesn’t say anything. I apologise and take off my shirt. He looks away as if he had never seen me naked, and I get the urge to throw my whole body in the washing machine.

I have nothing to give you which could match your kindness and gentleness. If I could give you my mouth, I would.

You just bring me cold water for now but I don’t complain. I say ‘thank you’ and act as if I don’t want to kiss your thumb. I have this list of things I would like to confess which I keep in my closet under my pile of jackets and mouths (I once knew the pressure of their kisses).

You don’t walk around here, you never take a cigarette break around the time of my words. Frankly, I never said anything either. So I shall apologise for the inconvenience and admit shily that everything is, in fact, about you.

If I die before they arrive make sure you cover your eyes. I don't know what's more intimate, someone watching you sleep or die? You could scream at me and I wouldn't hear you. You're free, you're free. I wouldn't judge either way.

I baked a cake when you came back and I choked on it. There is a certain satisfaction when you eat and cry simultaneously: it is always another hunger I am trying to satisfy.

It is the same thing I told Lou when we were in the back of your car: I am distraught with the prospect of your absence and I will forever seek your affection in silence. How could I ever tell you all of this? It would be a life sentence.

‘I am not religious’ I said ‘but I think God is watching.’ But I didn’t mean this in any way other than ‘this must be divine intervention and I must be a dog licking its wounds, and God watches me and does nothing.’

Sometimes boys spit down your throat when they kiss you to make sure you never forget them, never get them out of your system. There is no grave holier than my mouth, one that carries every love between teeth and tongue, and when it spits blood it is reminded of every malady it ever hosted.

I gave up on Him so He sends me men who resemble every single bit of His violence, ones who will always make me beg for forgiveness.