the visitor

there is a pureness of light in this room. he looked at me and nodded, closing in on me. it felt like a sweet fold of so many times that had past, long before. without force we discussed, like always.

he had come to me to tell me he was in love with someone else. not that he had ever needed to. I would never have to tell him, he always knew when I was in love, or not in love. that's one of the reasons why we were no more. I think he smelt it on me, love secreting from my pours.

he had brought wine and we sat facing each other, as if resting in a place of peace, sharing communion. the whole process became measured. he would murmur something and I would repeat, then we would sip wine and I would murmur something and so on.

lovers come and go, but old ones stay. I think it was sweet that he thought it was necessary to tell me about this new woman, kind even.

I guess the next question to ask is am I nervous of her. somehow through the labarynth of friends I know of her, and she feels like she is similar to me. does that annoy me a little?

if I am asking the question, probably.

now he's going to be happy. I'm not sure if I am used to that one.