‘I think when you walk in; I might just need a minute. Is that so fare, that you’d be so easy about taking my moments. Be careful boy, my moments are precious to me. Be careful what you steal without noticing. Be careful. I’m only tough on the outside. Shhh. Don’t tell any of these fucks, okay? I’m hiding. Most of them aren’t anything like it seems. Why don’t your words match your eyes? They smack me across my baby cheeks and stumble back like I’ve just killed their child. What do you see in bathroom mirror? I never stop antagonizing confusion. It’s why mostly I must hide my girlish gaze. It’s too sweet, too cute; doesn’t match the devil inside. I don’t stop. I never know when to stop. Do dare meet what you see? If you saw a completely different living thing than the flesh you knew you were standing in, would you engage in conversation? If it were another way of seeing everything you thought you knew to be true, would you challenge your own preconceived notions? Would you want to know why she chose to stare at you? Would you wonder why she only wants to lay on your naked chest? If she became addicted to the rhythm that ticked under the skin and bones, would you help her shake the addiction? Or would you secretly feed her parts of your own body to keep her feening? If it were truly a secret, no one would know. If no one knew, all the pain associated with the shame would dissipate. Poof! Like ashes in the wind, they run away. And again I’m left with no friends.’

She giggles. ‘You ask too many questions.’

‘And yet I cant ask you a single one. Should I move towards what takes all my words away? Or should I be on the run.’

She opens her pink lips to explain.

‘No. Wait! I already know this one’ I scream over her silence. ‘I hate words. To be without a single thing defined, this is every word to me. No. Please! Don’t explain. Don’t proceed to teach. Death teaches. People shove their own perspectives down the throats of the weak to instill a sense of their idea of the right direction on another living soul, but people don’t teach people. My curiosity is peeked by the words you speak. But that’s only because I can’t understand a single thing. You are of a different tongue when you sing. Curious. My curiosity is my livelihood. I live to feel your voice move the muscles in your chest. But that’s only because all I want is to be laid out across your naked flesh, feeling every little fucking thing. My curiosity extends to my lungs. I breathe beside you. I thank you for every breath.’

She sighs in French. ‘You have every question and you answer them all on you very own. Are you so curious as to why you have no friends?’

‘Not really, no, a hundred humans flow throw me in a given day. I have a dozen more stories just by listening. My friends can’t remember my name. My friends feel defeated by their own reflection after holding me tight. But it’s not for me carry. I can’t hold the weight of their dejected sighs. I cannot save their lives. I cannot make them eat. I can explain their beauty, but not to them. They must meet this reflection they see in me. They must love me. They must have everything, but my life I cannot give. I cannot love for more than me. I cannot make you love me. This simply must come from your desire to live within your own love. You must love every little thing you do.’