...numbness

Rain. You watch it hit the pavement as your expectations shatter against the ground. Recalling the past few days you wonder how you can feel so lonely when he still lays quiet on your bed. Tall, strong and warm: always willing to love you and always trying to hold you closer, arms wrapped around you every time there is an option. Always making you his, pulling you just an inch closer to his chest.

Glancing as he lays, exhausted, you wonder why only your mind is tired… maybe tired of you.

You stare out the window and feel numb while you watch the droplets attack you through the glass. You realize it is the only thing you have felt for a long time: simple emptiness. His desire falls only a few hours back, and euphoria is just not an option anymore. Your eyes wander over to his relaxed figure and you snort: not an option to you, anyway. Finding its way to your lips, a smile makes you realize it is only there to camouflage your desire to weep: tears and rain is just too much of a cliché, even for you.
 

 

Thinking of the past nights, mornings and days you begin to feel used once again. Was this really what you wanted? You remember calling him, making him come and expecting to feel something. Anything, really. Clenching your fists until pain finds its way you decide ignoring the past becomes the better option, and biting his neck instead of your lips makes you feel something, even if it is only for a fraction of a second.
 

With this idea fixated you make your way back to that disaster of a bed, and as soon as you climb the covers he is over you, grinning, telling you the thousand lies that make any girl blush. Surrendering to his warmth and desire you willingly ignore the voice in the back of your head screaming you to back off. You don’t even feel bad… What has that voice done for you anyways? Where has it gotten you and your dreams? When was it ever good?
 

Deciding your youth is more important than your thoughts you make your way back to him, on top of him and under him. Letting him make you his yet again, hoping to feel just the shadow of an emotion. He pulls you closer than ever, tighter than ever, firmer than ever.  His blood finds your tongue and your groan becomes the literal expression of suppression. Your nails dig their way into his skin and he growls, holding you down. He keeps you still and moves you around. His desire is overwhelming, lust wrap you up and swirls you both in a hurricane of sweat, screams and pure lust.  For seconds all trace of a dark thought expires: you feel something.

The storm you created passes in a fraction of eternity, and finding yourself back in his calm arms you simply wonder: is this anything really better than nothing? Is it even feeling?