entanglements You're in bed together. Bodies have mingled and you're sure that somewhere in the world your cries are still reverberating, residual and resounding. Now in what should be an afterglow moment he is instead stroking your hair while looking at a spot not far from your eyes. You've missed, you want to tell him, but instead you say I hate the way you look at me. And how do I look at you? he asks. He's amused. Like you're a man dying from hunger and I'm a glass of water. << [heart] >> scribble me your heart