My elbows stuck to the table providing tired support for hands holding my head. Red-rimmed eyes peer through splayed fingers at her and six full chambers next to the bed. Breathing sheets rise subtly and slowly fall, random skin flash flexes my fruit of my vine. Irregular patterns pull my eye along her spine seeing prints that couldn’t possibly be mine. It’s only six steps to pearl-gripped relief for jealous erection and this rigid pride, slumped forward and kneading my scalp, it’s swallowed whole and kept inside. Glued feet dampen the heart, but a fool believes in love’s call, knowing any excuse will suffice, when understanding meets the wall. Imagination fuels the guilty mind as a one way ticket with no transfer, suffering from phantom reciprocation, knowing that it was me and not her.