morning

It's 2 AM Christmas morning and the uncomfortable lover writes from his bed under the flickering glow of two candles.
And she exposed him.
The naked and ugly parts.
His room was ransacked.
His scars made clean and visible.
He sips biting whiskey from a glass stained with fingerprints and he ponders of stations, places and locations to hide -- there are none.
Smoke from a burning cigarette curls and colors the dimly lit room and it's Christmas morning. The uncomfortable lover pictures his unwrapped gift miles away, sleeping under sheets decorated with her lovely scent.
He recalls a kiss, an embrace, a look, unspoken communications and her tiny hands were always warm.
This cold room is confusion and the uncomfortable lover realizes that some things are incalculable.
"It's so difficult to compromise the desires of an aching heart."
A gift wrapped in soft flesh.
A heart swimming in blood of untamed devotion.
And the uncomfortable lover will sleep alone tonight.

mc (2.25 AM Christmas morning)