It was in his bed that I forgot who I was

My arms extended into the air as I unconsciously shouted a name that is as familiar to me as the insomnia that favors my bedside and the trauma that visits unexpectedly, yet always anticipated.


Recanting my arm back to my side. I slide them across my body so that someone may hold me, if not the person I had chosen to endow me with meaning. I know this is wrong, but you wouldn’t understand. Hysterical neurosis is daunting when faced alone.

I thrust my hips into his elongated figure, hoping for a response and begging for approval…that I’m okay and that I have not succumbed to the darkness. I slip my fingers into his joints, like a coin into a fortune teller. Awaiting for an affirmative prediction to be relayed. The mechanism begins to move, the smoke begins to rise but the fortune remains untold.

Limbs go still..and I’m given nothing.

The darkness swallows you whole and I’m left with a void.

The self-centered appease me, maybe because it gives me meaning. Deep down         I      know maybe I’ll always fall victim to a dark quiet room..left alone to hear nothing but my own breathing.

My fingers trace your torso, I’m somewhat in denial about your existence.

I trace the wood wall paneling in the same manner. It’s as cold as you, but at least I know what to expect when I place my finger tips upon the rigid surface. You would think this would upset me, but it doesn’t. It sends me into a cathartic frenzy of sorts. Securing the very truths I’ve always known.

In actuality you have no idea that I’ve done all this, or that I’ve grappled with feeling undesired into the late night.

You were fast asleep.


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