5am

5am and I still smell of you. The stale sweat sits on my skin, my hair, my bed. My body bruised from your teeth/indifference. Alone. At last. Free to cry, free to mourn, free to wish, to hope. I wish I had never met you sometimes. When you are gone is when I miss you the least. When I can feel your skin against mine I am lonely, clutching you closer to make it more real, wish your heart would push through mine and then maybe we would be touching. Maybe once we are bleeding and broken. Sullied and sad. Torn and taken. We will finally be there. In each others arms, holding on tight to the memory of the moment itself. Grasping for the reality we have created in the deep secret hours of the morning. Just trying to find a way to feel, when we both feel so alone.