5:06 AM

5 in the morning and still tucked in bed
except the blanket isn't in place, my legs and toes are exposed, giving such fabric an insignificant purpose
i feel the faint air brushing against my thighs and ankles
yet my hands are unsure on what to do next, whether i should engage into pleasure or another paragraph of endless admiration
i think of him
i think of her
and all my senses drown out except for the fan propelling air toward me
everything else is unheard of,
the itch between my legs ignored, the aggravating temptation of relapse slowly dying out
like the body waiting for an image or a representation, an embodiment of perfection, and how my words are piling up to become of redundancy
i am the fire of a candle, soon to become its demise and leftover wax
and all i can picture is how perfect his skin is, and how beautiful she is
as the sun deliberately rises to its peek and emits pale blue through the curtains
and here i am wishing that i could have someone who can whisper me to sleep once again
but i am lonely and my bed is empty
another morning and night wasted

n.j.