I see him put his sheep suit on again. I'm writing postcards to her memory as a way of feeling disconnect. I'm not going anywhere. I'll see every single move he makes as he moves forward with the art of his embrace. I want to live in the city where things are always happening, the weather is cool, and it's so crowded I can't breathe. But, I'm stuck in this blistering heat I'm writing postcards. I've seen this several times before. I sit here dead inside and I see the seducer seduce her. No one can trust a man so cruel with his bags always packed and his heart untrue. I've seen this several times before. My eyes have grown weary and I'm giving up on this. How do you sleep at night? I'm disgusted and mistrusted. I'm slipping out of reach and it's better this way.