Last night,
I thought of you.
Touching me, kissing me.
Making me yours.
Last night,
I thought of you.
Your body moving with mine
Like a machine.
Last night,
I thought of you.
Your lips touching skin,
And your hands revealing me.
Our hands discovering each other's bodies.
Is it bad,
That last night,
At midnight,
All I wanted was you.

I haven't spoken to you in 53 hours and 22 minutes.
And that hurts.
I don't want to speak to you first, because you're making no effort to talk to me,
So why should I make an effort to talk to you?
Why should I make an effort to nurture you and care for you when you have full days of nothing to do, but you don't even say hello.
5 little letters that mean nothing to you, but mean so much to me.
When you say hello, it means I've crossed your mind.
It means you want to speak to me.
It means you want my effort, because you're willing to give yours.
But I guess I haven't crossed your mind in 53 hours and 24 minutes, because there's still not
A single **hello.

He runs through her fingers like sand
the warmth of him
his breath on her neck
a touch of his hand
then nothing
as time steals him away
leaving her lonely still.

You think I'm still here
Funny that,
I left just after you left, remember?
I didn't return when you did.

You just walked back in, remember?
her rust still on your tongue,
covered in shards of your broken heart.

Pitiful.

Wanting me to pick up your pieces.
Me, the one you dropped and shattered
Me, bearer of children, believer of lies.

Shamed.

While her memory cut you deep
it was me that healed your wounds
with the warm, self loathing comfort
of doing it for the kids.

Used.

You apologised, profusely, wrapped in crocodile tears 
yet the guilt was all mine.

Apparently.

You think I'm still here
Funny that...

I only know that
during lingering kisses
my darkness lifts for a moment
as your soul touches mine.

I sometimes stand alone and stare
at time worn face and wayward hair
that frames green eyes with brightest red 
and do not recognise myself

Where is the girl that once belonged
to laughter, dancing, love and song
who always saw with lovers eyes
and sugar coated all her lies

She lingers somewhere far from here
a memory vague to those held dear
too long she has been kept apart
from you, the captor of her heart.

Is it so wrong
that you are my waking breath?
the unseen force that weighs my eyelids into blissful dreams?
Is it so wrong that your very touch stirs my soul?
How can it be so?

Sometimes.
when sat.
waiting.
If I listen closely.
I hear.
between ticks.
their mocking.
of my longing.
to be free.

On crowded streets they meet
stealing warmth and kisses
as the hubbub melts away
leaving only them
alone in their misdeeds
together in their longing
for a different ending that cannot be.