The smell of sex:

I think of you.

But it’s not really sex;

It’s not really you.

I think

You want me there

So I’m not anywhere else.

I think

You just want someone, anyone,

Not me.

I doubt

What we shared,

What I thought was there.

My heart hurts

My stomach hurts

My head hurts

My hand hurts.

I want you to pick me up

But it’s not really you.