You set the night on fire that night. I saw you in that red dress, one of my favorites. It was weird, because all I could imagine was taking it off of you and bringing you closer to me. It was weird because by that point we were both sick and disgusted by each other's touch. Or so we said. No matter how far apart we slept on that mattress we would still wake up entangled, I'd always feel your hand creep close first. I'd always accept. I couldn't turn down such a touch, such a stoking of the flames in my soul. I thought I could never truly tire of it. But now that I'm here, after experiencing many more touches, I've realized a lot. Mainly, that you didn't deserve that, and I shouldn't have accepted. But looking back on it regretfully won't help, will it? So I'll just pretend it was worth it, until I feel that sensation again.