4am. I am wide awake.
You are snoring softly beside me.
Your arms wrapped tightly around my body although
I have never felt so alone.
I know you will be gone in the morning.
I know I will punish myself for attempting to fill this
Hole with casual, unmeaningful sex.
I know you will message me as to not seem rude…
Then we won’t message again.
But that doesn’t matter.
Your skin smothering my too white body,
Too close for comfort,
Too awake to sleep.
I run my fingertips over your arm;
The dense muscles solid against your soft skin.
I think about the other times this has happened.
Not with you, of course,
It’s only ever a one-time-thing.
I should be shocked at the numbness.
But I couldn’t care any less.
On my floor, my crumpled dress,
Solely used for the mission to impress.
Why do I put myself under this stress?