Butter and Balsam

She hears again his guttural sob as he orgasms behind her. Between his muscles and her anima - butter and balsam. She spreads herself, makes herself parts to be used. Afterward, his hurried dressing, his indifferent coldness. Then, as usual, he leaves her for that bony with halitosis. One cigarette after another; she draws the smoke into her lungs, into her belly, feels the fumes turning to vengeful wraiths. She opens drawers tossing his clothes, anything that smells of him. She wants to write letters, raw accusatory letters to his pride --- his bull-S soul She imagines following him, demanding violent sex just to use him up. One last warm splash, one more flick of her wrist, then turning away swiftly, deleting him out of her life forever.