Husband

My beautiful husband sleeps and stirs. Billy Corgan strums his vocal cords. Rum stirs my neurons. I relish the sound, the sight, the smell, the high. His arms crossed over the slick silver tablet, the shimmer of the metal matching the shimmer of his ring matching the shimmer of his studded belt - something I remember from 14. Chin folded into the curve of his shoulder, arms folded into themselves, something missing from the grip. Lest I go fulfill...