Alcatraz.
We slept on a bare mattress in the middle of the room, in the middle of winter. Apartment #1407 of a gray building, occupied by grayer souls.
It stood on the outskirts of a lost island - depressing, dark, and damp. Like Alcatraz, my fate would soon feel it's thick walls and metal, but not yet...
There was a grocery store on the first floor so that the silvers didn't have to travel far for their essentials: milk, bread, penicillin.
It was a home where people came to die. But, with every touch and every thrust, we breathed life into the decrepit walls.
March, and my heart was already marching in a direction its never been.
He didn't have time to get furniture, just picked up the keys. He did get a mattress - a king for a kingpin. What did I care? I would have slept in the streets to feel him.
Got tired of fooling around in his many cars, so he rented a fuck pad for us away from the city, away from the world.
I wore black thin stockings, a skirt, and a sleeveless ruffled top. It was copper, like the pipes that failed to keep us warm that night. So, instead we kept each other warm. His jacket covered us, but only halfway.
We held each other, in the middle of the mattress, middle of an empty room, amidst cold and grey walls - but it felt like the way to heaven.
I would have stayed there forever, it was all I needed. His love gave me life. For years it sustained me and we ruined it.
Alcatraz couldn't break us, but our egos did. How dare we ask for love again?
