The first time I spent the night in another man’s arms I felt good,

Until he kissed me goodbye the next morning.

It was quick,

As if I didn’t deserve it,

Then he was gone.

And I laid in bed,

Cold and lonely.

The night before,

I had wrapped his body around me like a jacket,

Hoping I could pretend his warmth was the heat radiating off your skin,

The way it used to when I slept with you.

I wish I had slept with you last night.

I wish the sound of your snores had broken the silence,

I wish it was your lips I woke up to,

the caress of your hands softly urging me awake.

I wish it was your voice whispering “good morning,”

While curious hips pressed against me.

I wish it was you that craved me.


I keep trying on jackets,

Leaving them in a pile in the fitting room,

Like my clothes on the floor next to the bed.

No matter how many I take home,

I’ll always end up returning them.

They’re never going to fit.

Never going to bend to the curves of my body,

The way that you did.

Even so,

I’ll keep waking up next to them,

Guilt and regret rising from my stomach,

To my throat,

Because being warm for a minute,

Is better than being cold.

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