in the air

Met a guy I used to know. Have a drink. Stuff in the air. Ask him about his current fortune. He shakes his head. I take a sip and remember the past. Passionate. Car crash. Hanging on for both our lives. How about you, he asks. I shake my head. Lonely, he sighs, licking his mauve glistening lips with the tip of his tongue. I nod. Stuff in the air.
I know want he's thinking. But it wouldn't work, he likes bitches. I wouldn't stand a chance. Broken in two. Torn to pieces. Sip my drink. Contemplate sleeping around. Ignoring his needs. Treat em mean. Pretend I don't give a fuck. Spend the day impressing losers. Ignore the phone calls. I know how to do it - I just don't like the rules. He licks his lips once more. I smile. He smiles. Stuff in the air.
I watch him reminisce. I gave him stuff. Stuff the bitches could never give. I made him feel. Really feel. I noticed the tiniest things about him. I made him question the reason he sleeps with shallow polished ice blocks that leave him emptied out on the floor. He smiles at me. I smile at him. Stuff in the air. Fucking hell.
Then it begins. Sucks me in. Pushes me away. He licks his lips more slowly this time. Allowing the wine to linger a little longer. Begins to stretch his broad shoulders. Smiles. Doesn't say a word. Not a single word. Just leaves me hanging. Waiting. Wanting. Say something. Anything. Nothing. Not a single word. Then with one dismissive shake of the head, he pushes me away once more. Torn to pieces. Broken in two. He just laughs. He just laughs. 
Time to go. Just one more, he begs. Still playing with the possible maybes. Life. Politics. Teenage nightmares laying naked on the table. He is amazing. Fucking amazing. If only he knew. But he doesn't know. That's why he likes bitches. Treat em mean. Torn to pieces. Playing with fire. Stuff in the air. He smiles at me. I hold back the tears. Time to go. Time to go.