this relationship is a gameshow and i only answer wrong

never have i ever started an affair at the same hotel as where my parents honeymooned at.  never have i
ever driven by your house at 2 a.m. drunk and high hoping you’d catch me, and i certainly never called
you drunk wanting you to sing me a lullaby.  never have i ever sat awake in my hotel room in chicago
because sleep didn’t come easy when your prints were on every inch of this city, and your face in every
crowd.  never have i ever told you that you make my blood flow electric.  never have i ever facebook
stalked your ex-wives.  never have i ever gotten tattoos that remind me of you, and i never ever wanted
us to get matching work.  never have i ever wanted to be a first for you.  never have i ever told you
about my father, about the airports and hotels and all his friends that wanted me so much they risked
jail time.  never ever have i told you about my mother and the apartment in omaha and her nervous
breakdown.   never have i ever told you your eyes are kind, and i never told you i liked your hands best
on my neck.  never have i ever loved you, not even once.

Quinton Jordebrek is an emerging queer artist who currently resides in the Midwest. You can read more of his work in the fall issue of High Shelf Press.