leaving you.

friday night i'm with you and you're fucking me in ways that make my stomach first and my heart second, feel like they are being pulled down from their place high up in my body cavity, out between my thighs. every time there is the slightest retreat in your touch or in your thrust my body tenses with the fear that you will stop and break this chain you've created that links all of my important organs - brain, heart, gut, cunt - with all of yours - brain, heart, gut, cunt, fist.

we've been fighting for weeks now over stupid shit because you can't recognize what love and care looks like. or maybe you've just got an unquenchable thirst for it; for playing games, for mindfucking. you're losing me now and you know it. this is irreparable. you've waited too long without giving me much. you've waited too long to fuck me heart-to-heart like this.

and, for a second, i think i have it figured out. i think that i've wound up on top in all of this because i'm realizing these things even while my whole body is beating around the hand you still have inside of me. but i can't see that you're also thinking beyond the fucking and the grunting right now too. you're not processing shit the way my sweaty, little head is doing while mashed against my pillows and headboard. no, you're still trying to figure out your next move in this long drawn out game of "who do you love?"

then you do what i fear most, but what i least expect - you pull your hand from me quick and cruel, causing me to gasp at the contrast of going from full to empty in less than a second. i hear conceit, a tonal snicker to your words, as you throw yourself down next to me and say low, a threat for my ears only, "i wanted you to feel me leave you."