I hate this come down,
the feeling I get when he leaves.
The smell of his cologne
lingers on my skin
and my mind spins.

Everything good ends.
Maybe that's why I
don't like anything good.
Why can't I savor the pleasure?
What's wrong with me?

The future and the past flash before my eyes
like a movie reel that I can't stop.
He loses himself in me
and I leave my body.
I look to him to bring me back.

I can't find him behind his eyes.
He doesn't hear me when I speak.  
It's too fast and I feel sick.
The respect has been pulled from my body
in an instant, like a cloth from a table.

Pleasure turns to sadness
as soon as the door clicks shut.
My mind spins.
I hate this come down,
the feeling I get when he leaves.