I just need this one moment, one last time.
He lays in my bed in the early morning, my heart embellished with despair. I know in my mind that we cannot be together, but I inch closer and closer to him anyway. His hand settled onto my stomach in the night and his breath pushes warm air onto my neck. I miss him. His hips are up against mine and I know that the only reason I’m here is through his desperation for a bodily connection and not for love. We drank and laughed, I almost cried, he confessed false love and called me pet names and he held me like I was a dog. His bitch. I followed him around like an animal and all I can do is lay awake in regret. He won’t be up for hours. I want to pretend that this is love, so I do. I push my hips closer to his and tug on his arm to wrap him closer around me. If I could, I’d give him one last kiss. I know we won’t speak in his rise, only to part goodbye, good riddance, our time together has adjourned. We won’t admit it but know it, I am not his, and he is not mine, but I once was.
don't hook up with your exes...
writing prompt 11/16/23; i wonder if he misses me too. (he called me two weeks ago after months of no contact to tell me he still loved me)
