I'm basking in sadness
Like lovers do after heated love-making
It coats my skin and leaves me aching for more
Another taste of the pleasure of agony
The only difference is I'm alone
There's no one there tangled up in the mess of me
And in the throes of my passion
There was no one to witness the arch of my back
Or my teeth digging into the softness of the pillow
The bruises it left aren't hand-shaped,
And they lie underneath my skin instead of coloring it
Sweet agony is a lonely existence
Yet one that I invite into the emptiness of my bed as often as I can