Tangible Anxiety

It’s been four days since you were in my arms. Two since he said he loved you and stole you away. Why couldn’t you have stayed with me? I was more than willing to love you. All I wanted was you. And I thought maybe since it was my best friend I could pretend like we didn’t have sex, and move forward. I thought since it was you my best friend that I could trust you. I thought you cared, and now there’s nothing left of me. You tell her you’re not attracted to me and that we could never be. “Sex is just sex.”1

Is that really all I was to you? Another orgasm, am I nothing? You knew exactly how to touch me to caress my soul, so that in one moment I would be yours. I tried so hard not to loose control not to give in to the promise of your touch. When it was all I could bare to breathe. So close in your arms so tight and secure I never thought we would atrophy like we have. 2

I’m not a puppet; I have a heart, a heart you destroyed. I don’t know where to turn, or what to do, what to feel. All I know is this tangible knot of anxiety. How I want to feel you, how I want to throw you away. I hate that I love you. If I could go back and change it, I don’t know what I would do. 3