I ******* and you **** me over.
There is nothing that I wouldn’t give,
Just to have you in my arms again.
Not *******, just laying, content.
To feel your breath on my neck as you fall
Asleep, in love, take your pick
Like you take my fingers, oh so willingly.
Instead of gentle caresses, it’s all hard.
Biting, scratching, squeezing,
All hard, like it will be the last time we touch.
You don’t want my love and I don’t want this frigid air between us.

Use me, play my heartstrings like they are that guitar you got in middle school and forgot about. I’m just as forgettable. Keep me in your closet until you find the urge to clean your space and take me out to reminisce, then put me back, because I am too hard to let go, but too hard to look at because we never amounted to anything.
If you hold me long enough, maybe the desire you once had would reignite and we could learn the love songs that you wanted to sing. But you don’t hold me for long, you pluck at my strings a few times out of nostalgia, and place me back into hiding.

Hold me, I miss you, I miss your warmth.
Please just lay with me, even if you don’t love me, I’ll take what I can get.
I love you from every inch of my body and soul, please just know that.
Know that and don’t hurt me because of it.
You watered these flowers in my heart, you nurtured them and then left them alone.
They are dying without you, they receive no light, no hydration.
Their climate has changed, from lush garden to dry desert, and they’re dying without you.
Please take care of my heart, I have left it with you, I know you don’t want it.
It has a mind of its own and no loyalty, it left me without looking back.
I miss you, I miss your warmth, please hold me.

“I am alone but I am not lonely” is what I say to myself. I have thoughts,  words, memories screaming through my body, keeping me busy, tormenting me. Blood drips into the bathwater I substitute for human touch. I can see my pain now, I have a reason to cry, but my bathwater chills and ideas of someone holding me die and I’m alone again, but not lonely. I have dishes to do and I remember doing them with her, and her memory keeps me company. The dishwater chills as I take my time, stretching the moment. Any longer and my hands would numb like my heart. I am alone again, but not lonely. I have a bed to crawl into and a pillow to hold like I once held somebody. I have her kiss imprinted on my memory and I let that lull me to sleep. I am alone and maybe I am lonely.

I could write a book on the way she smiles.
Sometimes in pictures, all lips, and all I can think about is kissing them.
Sometimes in bed, big and candid, full of teeth, just the way she doesn't want anyone to see.
She smiles small, like a secret, you can see it at the corners of her mouth.
She smiles from her eyes, sometimes, even when her lips don't make even the slightest move.
Her smile makes me smile, no matter how she does it. It lights up my ******* world, just knowing that some little thing has made her happy.

We used to sing together,
I sang the lyrics of those love songs hoping you would understand that I felt them in my heart.
You would sing the songs with reckless abandon, I could never know what was going through your head.
I felt every word, just as enthusiastically as you would sing them.
I sing alone now, sad songs, and I feel them just the same. I wonder if you ever notice how my songs have changed.
If you look close enough, I’m sure you could see it in my eyes.
I wish things hadn’t changed and we were still in the car where we used to sing together.