| Gwen "And seem I a saint, when most I play the Devil." All I can see in our apartment is "things of hers that you left lying around." There's things she has left as well: eyeliner next to the sink. Makes me remember her eyes, how they shone sultry. I see her mouth has left a film on the rim of the glass she drank from last night, while she and I (and you) wacthed tv in silence. She smiled then, half at me, half at you, but then, we thought it was all for us. We did not know better. I love her; you fuck her. But it's all the same to her. Someday I know you'll catch us breathless with happiness in the kitchen, and you'll know and rip her away. I'm sorry all this happened, but she came in one night out of the rain... She knew- she had to know- that you weren't home. She's Satan, they way she silently implores me to lust. And yet, I won't even kiss her. I can't do that to my best friend. I love her. You can't, judging from the way she craves my love. She doesn't even know a thing. |