Lost


The sex is a crutch
Shoving myself into a void that isn't you
A temporary salve that is unsatisfying
An action devoid of love but not thought
There are thoughts and they're painful
Projections that burn their way into the girl naked under me
A freckle here, hair darker or shorter
And suddenly the girl is you
But it's a lie, it always is
I become enraged and my movements more animalistic
Thrusting not out of pleasure, but self-hate
And the girl that was you loves it
She's enraptured by it, a junkie filled with ecstasy
I have her hooked on my drug; she aches for it
Unknown that the fuel behind the passion is shame
She needs her fix, so I indulge her
Hopeful that the projections will permeate
And I can be happy again
But they always fade
And the girl that was you isn't you
Once again leaving me tormented from my thoughts
Because you're gone, and I'm lost.

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I felt like writing again