It was a taut silence in the air.
Your cologne scented the room.
Circling my finger around the rim of my glass. 
Jack Daniels on ice.
A nervous laugh with the smile of heaven.
Glaring across the room. 
We both knew your true intentions.
You wanted me.
Not me. But me.
A late night phone call
Accompanied by a glass of Whiskey and two shots of gin.
With no commitment and mundane effort.
I conceded to your wants. 
Renouncing all of mine.
It felt good. That first time.
Let's have another round.
Then come back, for another round.
But one time became one time too many.
I would never face you sober -
Because "this" was a reflection of an emotional gaffe.
The onset of a vicious cycle on a quest for self-worth.
A spare lay. 
That's the role we unknowingly audition for.
My dignity and pride wrapped up in the clothes you picked up off my floor.
Always available. No attachment. That was the advantage.
A smack on the ass, and I'll ignore you until next week.
Next week has arrived.
The phone rings.
So I poured a glass of Jack Daniels over ice.
And waited for you to come in.

- Ronny Maye

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