Concha, dynamite and whiskey.

How dare you.

How dare you.

You’ve made a mad woman of me for all the world to see.

Your lips were sweet like dessert, kisses filled with pure honey. The pads on your fingertips they were warm. Being with you felt like standing in line at my favourite patisserie. I felt welcomed, satiated and at home.

You never took my hand, said it would hurt. I thought it meant it would hurt you…. Not me. Your voice, it would shake. Your hands, they would tremble.

You were there in the soft, spring light.

Now in the summer sun, you vanished.

But still I sit at the threshold of a pile of rubble. This building that once stood here I watched as you demolished it in one swift movement. With the wave of your hand and the click of your tongue.

How dare you. How dare you.