whoring yourself to fill the void

made love last night
wasn't good
wasn't bad
intimate strangers
make me kinda sad

you are constantly fighting with yourself. you keep repeating "this is just lust". you almost believe it. you have settled into a comfortable relationship, which means that you fuck twice or thrice a week. you never ask him what he does on the other days. it has been almost two months but you never ask whether he has been sleeping with anyone else. it seems too intrusive. and more than that, affirmation of your suspicions would require some sort of an action. you could either reconcile with the fact or you could leave. neither seem terribly tempting options, at the moment.

you lie together in the bath. all the elements are there - the candle, the smokes, the alcohol, the interesting conversation, the beautiful boy. you wonder whether you're being too greedy to wish that there had been some emotion.

you are not asking for love. you don't want love. you're not ready to give it. but a part of you aches constantly for it. a part of you aches to sleep with someone who cares about you. a part of you desperately wants to be with someone who wants to hear your voice.

you miss the passion. you keep revisiting old relationships in your mind, you keep opening locked doors, reminscing about the abandoned lovemaking, kissing sessions that lasted hours, and the laughters, and the love.

you just really miss the passion...

you wish you weren't so afraid. and he wasn't so afraid. you hope you don't fuck up again, and fall in love with love. you hope you don't make him the object of your desire for all the wrong reasons.

you just want to remain in this "comfortable relationship" forever. even if it means that each time you leave his house, you wonder whether someone else will be coming in to take up your side of the bed...