Three of Swords

Foreboding, heartbreak

Last night my doorbell rang. It was one, I was asleep.

Find pants, find the light, open the door. My lover, gasping words tears silence, his arms holding me don't leave me not now.

I did it because I don't trust you; because I want to love you; because I don't want to hurt you, be hurt.

My only advice in that moment: don't fuck people you don't want to fuck.

The other woman, is that me or her?

Sleeping, fitfully, awake, finally, morning: why is he in my bed?

She's my friend, he said, going through a rough time, needs me.

This I know: My friends don't try to fuck me; they respect my autonomy and my asexuality around our relationship. My friends respect my space, my body, my choices and relationships. That woman, the other woman, is no friend.