The Man

He lies in his bed-
wearing his all black suit-
the color of darkness, sadness, and grief-
black.

And i lie beside him-
my face next to his unshaven chin-
my hands tousling his hair-
his black black hair.

Yet in the shadow-
although his soul lies somewhere else-
no matter how hard he tries to hide it-
i can still see his grief.

I don't know what he's grieving for-
have no idea what he's looking for-
senseless of what he's sad for.

But i stayed-
spent the night-
enjoying the sight.

We fucked earlier-
skin to skin-
the time when he seems to forget his sadness and grief-
while i pretend to forget mine.

He quickly dress up after we fucked-
while i stay naked.

I was hoping for more-
while he seems to be quite satisfied-
for the sex was only to help him forget his problem-

But it doesn't matter-
I was only there for the company-
not for the sex-
I knew he was lousy anyway.

We had cigarettes-
before and after we fucked-
and discussed about our country-
the civil war-
my study-
his study-
literature-
art-
and extreme sports-
until he falls asleep.

I knew i made a mistake-
shouldn't go out with this man all people hated so much-
But fuck it-
Its a reciprocal relationship-
none of us felt anything for each other.

and so-
we had the most intimate relationship-
yet we are so distant from each other.

I left him in the middle of the night-
and he called me the day after-
to repeat the whole scene again.

After weeks,
we called a quit-
where we later become cameraderie.

and, until now,
it is the most honest relationship i've ever had.
for we never lie one to another.
and only we knew about it.
only we knew how close we are,
and how distant we are,
at the very same time.