Oxytocin
She stayed with me the other night.
She slept in my bed
And I held her close.
The comfort of another
Little spoon.
Such sweetness.
I lay there half asleep
In case I fall asleep completely
And awake from a dream
That was never real.
She lights up my mind
And I’m afraid of losing that.
The terror of solitude.
Enough is enough isn’t it?
Wanting more is selfish.
But I do sometimes.
Body bypasses brain.
Broken. Bewildered. Bemused.
Addicted to a feeling?
A chemical process?
Action. Reaction. Repeat.
I just want to laugh and live.
I’m alive and dead inside.
She likes me enough.
But does she love me?
And what do I love?
The comfort of a feeling?