I am the Messenger

She let herself love me for three minutes.
Can three minutes last forever? I ask myself, but already I know the answer.
Probably not, I reply. But maybe they last long enough.

I can smell the sex on her, and my only hope is that she can smell the love on me.

I expected spades.
I got hearts, and for some reason, this feels the most dangerous of them all.
People die of broken hearts. They have heart attacks. And it’s the heart that hurts most when things go wrong and fall apart.