every memory of you, every replay of your lips touching mine or your face buried between my legs is immediately followed by the thought of you doing the same to her. they’re no longer my private fantasies. they’re haunted by the knowledge that she’s the one you couldn’t let go. the one you did those things to first. we did have fun, and i guess we’ll always be special to each other in a sense... but how do i sleep when i know she gets to feel the same magic touch, the same fiery lips that i crave so much? how do i not hurt at the fact that i will never feel that again? never look into your eyes or feel your skin against mine, never hold you close when you’re cold. i guess i should be grateful that you’re still there in a way. and who knows? maybe i have it all wrong. maybe she’s the one who came back and asked for another chance. maybe she groveled at your feet and begged you to come back. but it doesn’t change the fact that you did. doesn’t change that the you i want so much, the part that i crave like an addict craves his drug, is gone, is dead to me. and i don’t know what to do. those memories are ours, but i don’t know how to reclaim them. they’re fresh and oh so vivid.. but then she’s there, taking my place, pushing me out of the frame. so i’m lying in the dark, rain from the thunderstorm is crashing steadily against the window with lightning flashing every five seconds.. and i just wish you were here. i wish it wasn’t like this. i wish i didn’t feel so ******* jealous. i wish i wasn’t fighting tears and gasping for breath through the sting.. you’re the storm in the dark of my life… you crashed in and shook my foundation and changed everything: the way i thought, the way i felt, the way i lived. you showed me passion and fire.. you evoked the want and desperate need to cleanse my soul. you made me laugh, you made me feel. but you were just passing through. you were passing through…your force is decreasing.. your fire is fading. when dawn breaks you’ll be moving on, with gentle raindrops caressing my cheek, stinging my eyes before they blow through to the next life, to her. but I’ll be here, waiting for the next storm; part of me hoping it’ll be you again.