I remember our first encounter, the deep far off look in your stormy blue-grey eyes, the way you reminded me so much of my best friend, Sheri. It was weird, uncanny and uncomfortable. The talks online to the first of the late night stalker phone calls. I rejected you as much as I wanted you.

I remember your touch. The warmth of your skin, softly reminescent against my fingertips. The slow rise and fall of your stomach as my fingers brushed across the parts that were more senstive. The smell of your skin, the softness of your hands as they traveled up and down my back. The digging in of your fingernails and the bite marks on my shoulders and breasts. The soft sighs leading to the begging. The grabbing of my hips as you pulled me closer to...
Our first late night sexscapade, 'til 4 in the morning. I never thought I could love you more.

I remember the first time I felt rejection, the aloneness, and feeling used. I remember the first hint of doubt, and I remember the mark on your neck and the comment you had made. I'm sure the look of astonishment on my face was enough. Then how you tried to touch my face and I turned away from you as the tears streamed down my face. You were frustrated with me and I was angry with you.
I remember your first lie, and I never thought I could feel pain so intensely

I remember the sudden distance, the late night phone calls and deep discussions about things; the never ending way you teased me and how it led up to sexual procrastinations over the telephone. The jelousy of Jennifer, feeling emotions suddenly twisted inside, the hate dissipating to nothing at all. I wanted to settle, but I didn't. I compromised and found a way between the extremes.

Then I remember our last moment together.
Sitting with you on the edge of my bed, me making the first move. The slow way I worked on you until you gave in. You moved in slow degrees and became a sudden memory. The placing of your hand on my back, the soft touch of sensation beneath my fingers as I softly ran my fingertip along the inside of your thigh. For the first time I thought of sastifying you and not myself. It was the first time of what has felt like the end. I picture it and feel the same emotions all over again. I feel it all and all of it turns me on. I want you all over again.

Over and under, I remember it all and I miss it to the point of self destruction.
It's all so cumbersome, it's almost orgasmic.
I can't disassociate myself from you. But, I know it's my infection that I'm feeding.

Sometimes I think that you enjoy breaking meas you stand watching me lie on the floorwhile my heart is bleeding out.

My final breath is gone.

Lesbians like me are adorable, bitch. And, I'm the last good thing about your part of town.