as soon as i crawled
into my bed naked, hyper-aware
you were there, your shade
sliding in between our bodies
and into my head.
i closed my eyes,
kissed him, and thought
of you.
this kind
of longing - unwanted,
unforeseen - is the
worst kind,
interrupting the last year and a half
of my life with him
that you left me behind in
still, i conjure you in my mind -
our easy intimacy, the
mind-meld of our sex - the
blatant differences in our fluidity,
and his and my uneasy
awkwardness
i stepped to the bathroom,
after,
and cried for a moment
my stomach rolling with
unsatisfied ache
hating that your memory
so often ruins what i have
painstakingly built with
the remnants of my psyche,
the small bits that escaped
the damage of your indifference.
and i hate this, i hate it
the kind of unfaithfulness
that i cannot avoid,
the attempt to not still want you,
and the weariness of wanting anyway
he deserves better of me.
i deserve better
of myself.
but tonight,
when he is sleeping
i'll touch the places on my body
that you worshiped
with your mouth
and when i release
i'll be holding you,
in my mind.
even after all this time.
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