I hate how late at night when the world is silent, my mind is loud.
My wall is unintentionally down, and thoughts of you come flooding in.
Warm tears well in the corner of my eyes as memories of us, memories of you, they all violently confront me.
Thoughts of your fingertips, followed by your lips making their way up my thighs. The lies I let my self believe as you whisper the things.
The things that made me want you, want us, over and over again.
I close my eyes tighter and reminisce about your firm grip around my throat. The way you pulled my hair and the primitive grunts we made as our bodies collapsed.
I block out the countless times I’ve cried after, during and alone.
Instead I think about how I miss you. I want you. But I know better.
How my heart will never survive another round.