Lay awake and my mind wonders to you, my hands become your hands. My lips become your lips. My breasts are yours.
I take my pants down. My legs fall open and you start caressing me the way you use to do.
I know I shouldn’t indulge as I do, but who can blame a person who’s body becomes weak to the thoughts of another?
You’re probably onto someone better. Why do I hang on when you’ve clearly let me know I’m not enough? I don’t know the answer to that.
I think that I think too much.