by Belinda Roddie
I rented out a room to a sweet girl
who I fucked three months later on a whim,
the experience like a whole new world,
a joyride that I could take for a spin.
She made me coffee after we'd indulge
in some fun in the morning. Soft, warm breasts
were what she offered me, while I lay cold
in her arms, air constricted in my chest.
She planned to move out in another year:
"To San Francisco!" she would always say.
But I was used to her just being here,
and somehow, I just wanted her to stay.
It was just lust, not love, and it would cease;
my heart and body were simply on lease.