Closed Doors Pg.5

The music doesn't help; it's his voice that I want to hear. This blanket doesn't help; it's his arms that keep me warm. The scarf around my neck is irritating because it's his hands that comfort me when he holds me there. He said three days but three turned into a month. He's gone. The candles in the bathroom are no longer soothing. The tea has gone bitter and I can't stand these damn Christmas lights. I guess that's why I threw them away. I lay here on the couch in the dark. It's so cold. So dark. The only warmth i feel is when i close my eyes and taste the tears that fall down my face because it reminds me of those passionate nights, days, and afternoons. I close my eyes now and hold my body as if trying to re-enact the first time he touched me. Roughing my female hoping to attain the same pleasure that he gave me. With my other hand I grab hold of my breasts in hopes to reproduce a similar sense of his touch. And I'm trying to reproduce a similar sense of his touch. And I'm trying to reproduce a similar sense of his touch. Trying to reproduce the sense of.... who am I kidding.... at the brink of climax I cannot continue. What good is a multiple orgasmic woman if there is no one there to enjoy it with? There is no him to enjoy it with. All I have is this music, the blanket, and this scarf to keep me warm. The tickle of my tears only brings more tears. I can't even cry aloud because Disbelief is a shocker that entertains itself. Two years, three months, five days. Oh. And a letter from him that reminded me of my empty womb telling me that the other woman he fucked is pregnant for him and that he'd prefer to be with her and their child. The apartment is mine. He said I could have it and that's the least he could do. I'm selling all his shit tomorrow. The anger that's inside of me isn't strong enough yet. The hurt that holds the lower left half of my chest is overbearing. Maybe I'll get a dog. But their loyalty is not by choice. Their loyalty is being smart. Is that what I want? For someone to stay with me because it'd be smart? And what would I have to offer other than myself. There would be no generation to follow and I don't want to adopt. Two years, three months, and five days and all I have is his scarf, the blanket we bought together, and the music we used to make love. Ain't that a bitch.