but i felt a distance between us after you curled into me and squeezed my hips in bliss
and pleasure and moans and groans
i wondered why you didn't kiss me,
distance,
i almost felt like i'd been dis-respected by the ghost of your lips on me -
when my hair was tangled in your right tight fist
you pinned me down with your left hand by my wrist,
listen, love...
there's still something that i miss about the way that i felt in the beginning -
something that i am willing to be angry about, *******, i want to scream out and shout, these doubts are clouding my ******* mind -
i can't seem to think as straight as i used to take such pride in.

maybe that's why i couldn't stop the tears running down my face
before i even realized i had felt an emptiness in my chest
that marinated in some kind of broken heart over something...
i still miss something...

i don't know why i cried,
when you closed your eyes and i shamefully picked up a towel
to wipe my ******* dignity off my thighs.
you were snoring gutteral z's that echoed off spiky hotel ceilings
before i had a chance to ask
if you needed me.
to give you a hand
with anything else.