Why are you telling me this story?

is my first thought as I lay beside you
in whatever passes for post-coital
bliss these days
It’s an unpleasant story
about bodily fluids and
the recklessness of childhood
You laugh
Do your overnight guests usually
find amusement in gross stories
about youth left to its own devices
what about me screams for that story
That’s when I realize
you’re probably telling this story for you
not for me or whatever body-snatched substitute
might’ve found her way to this side of your bed
I think you’re lonely
as much as a hypocrite can
I almost ask what you see
painted on my forehead
but you don’t even know
my name

Kayla Randolph is an all-around lover of the written word and recent Emerson grad with an MA in Publishing. Her publication credits include but are not limited to Brushfire Literature & Arts Journal, Calling the Beginning from Wingless Dreamer, Divot: A Journal of Poetry, and Alyssa Milano’s Sorry Not Sorry podcast.