/lit/ - Literature

we're laying together in my bed again, but this time is different.

i'm clinging to his arm with desperate abandon, feeling very small and cold and
alone, and he...

he stares at the ceiling, unmoved.

we both know what's coming, but there are still the formalities to be dealt
with. i love this man, and some perverse voice in my head wants him to suffer
for it, to prolong these last moments as long as possible, to make him feel
anything at all.

he pulls away, and my empty arms slowly fold into my breasts as i curl up and
begin to shake, reverting to the girl i once was, afraid of the dark, praying
to a god i knew wasn't listening.

and when i finally look up and try to meet his gaze, there is nothing there but
a slight revulsion, peeking out through the iron curtain of pity.

he walks out without another word, and my world begins to blur as the sobs
finally come.