The bartender called last call. I had already felt the alcohol but decided to do another shot of whiskey. I didn’t know how I was getting home. My card was expired and I had spent all my cash on alcohol.
You told me don’t worry, just come home with me. I smiled. We had been doing a lot of things lately and you had been passing me love notes written on cheap brown paper towels. I still didn’t know about you. I saw you as a politician, a great face but behind the charisma hid ugliness of superiority.
We started walking to your apartment downtown hand and hand. You told me you wanted to take me to your favorite spot. A single bench parked on a peak of San Francisco over seeing the whole city in its beauty of light pollution.
You told me you were done with white girls. I should of snarled but I was lonely and for reasons I never knew I did enjoy your company, even if I felt you were full of shit.
We kept walking and stopped in front of a church and you said we were all Gods in control of our own destiny. I didn’t understand until years later.
We finally reached your apartment. We went into an old elevator. I couldn’t stop looking at you. I fucking hated you and everything you stood for. Your faux Ghandi philosophy, your spirituality through crystals, your distaste of rap music, and your narcissism. You kissed me and it felt like a temporary home, feeling temporarily safe.
When we go into your apartment I couldn’t help but notice all the signs of a failed relationship. Dozen of empty frames on the wall, a floral couch picked up from a thrift store, crisp white sheets, and a piece of burnt carpet from a past romantic night that didn’t end well.
You started to peel layers from me one by one. I could see it your face. I saw the pain. I was just a piece of your fucked up puzzle. I should of just slept on the couch but I didn’t care. I needed the warmth of your skin, the intertwining of your fingers, your weight on top of mine. I started taking piece by piece of you realizing there was nothing there but drunk conversations and a false sense of comfort.
I left in the morning leaving everything behind the door of your apartment.