I close my eyes and I see you.
No matter how hard I try to move on.
No matter what I do.
I lay in bed and when the silence surrounds me, I can almost smell the sweat and grass and the fear. I feel your fingers running over my check down my chest. I feel your eyes burning into me and I feel the pressure to succeed, to give you want so I can the hell out of here.
And then comes the shame. The need to prove my masculinity. The desire to feel in power.
The music of the clubs is like a security blanket pounding into my ears and I need it. It helps. I grab a drink and watch. The women look my way and their eyes make me feel unused and almost whole. Almost.
Their hands are soft as they touch me and yet it always remind me of you. I push their hands away against my mattress and I take. I take what you took from me and even through they moan and they scream in pleasure, all I feel in pain.