While violently brushing my teeth, I looked in the mirror. For a moment, my reflection wore nothing but your boxers. Once upon a time, I said that you brush your teeth like my dad. “Like how? Violently?” you garbled through a foamy grin. I looked back in the mirror, and you were gone.
I remembered that loving you again, is like setting fire to book of matches. At first it would be brilliant, explosive and a lot fun. But at the end of the day, it’s just a cheap thrill from which I might get seriously burned.
© 2012 Bernadette Ignacio