And It Didn’t Stop
It was a rainy Monday morning
and there I was sitting in the clinic…there I was thoughts in hand along with balled
up tissues filled with dried up mucus sponged with damp tears, there I was
thoughts of you, hopelessly wanting you to burst through those corridors and
rescue me. Silly me to think of you as my hero, to think of you as my savior, although
I swam in the lake of hatred for you, I often wanted to dry myself off in the
wake of you knowing I am alive still in the quilt of your worry. Constant distant
chatter I tend to shun as I would bums on trains exclaiming there melancholic
tunes I dare not beat my feet to. Patiently waiting, my stomach feeling rubbish
from anticipation. I would love to know your heart… My mind goes into a moon
shine, where our moments of hot passion would be laughed upon, “it was all too
soon to know what love was in a matter of minutes, but as the seconds drew me a
vivid picture of our distant future, I saw you there…I saw us there. (A)nd (I)t (D)idn’t (S)top there, you see
TONY had my heart, he had my spirit, but all I seem to have for TONY was a good
time and his clothes were back on before I could even turn my shower nob from
the freezing cold water…TONY was my best kept secret…TONY knew how to please me,
and dismiss me at the same time…without blame I was left to shame TONY. With every
thrust…I felt TONY, I felt you TONY…I LOVED YOU…I…LOVE…YOU tony. The pleasure…the
immense pleasure I felt you…you inside me TONY…(A)nd(I)t(D)idn’t (S)top…”now
there” you said, as you wiped the tears from my trembling cheek, you whisper
ever so cavalier in my ear, it’s safe…it’s safe…the first time is always the
worst time, the second reckons to be the best time…I cried for TONY that night…tears
were not the only thing that was shed, the liquid roses spilled throughout the
bed and left stains of passion I wish now I could wash away permanently…”Jermaine
Crowell the doctor will see you now…” my heart sinks into my already knotted
stomach…I sit nervous, thinking of no one but TONY... thinking of TONY’s smile,
his musk of labor, his teeth down to his speech…I can’t hear the pantomime of
words coming from the doctors mouth except I’m sorry Mr. Crowell you TESTED
Positive for HIV…and all I could think about was TONY…(A)nd (I)t (D)idn’t (S)top…
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