Kicking

I'm lying on my bed under three different types of blankets. The window is slightly open so the sea breeze can creep across my exposed ankles. I feel nothing. I feel everything. At the same time. I am not sure why my life feels so empty when you arent around. There is a whole, as large as my imagination, picturing you here with me. There is a burning in my brain. It stings with the memory of what it would feel like to have you inside of me. You aren't a lover. You are my drug. I love you despite your abuse. I can't quit you. 


I can't go on with you. 

I can't go on without you. 

Taste the blood. 

I bite my tongue in desperation. 

Switching from side to side to side. 

I cry inside my pillow.

Kicking you one more time. 

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