• viennasidney 5w

    And Repeat.

    I touch the frosted windows
    The tips of my fingers Numbed
    Against the rest of my bodies ache.
    Trekking across a landscape of sand only too reach my bed post,
    A trek wired with Abandoned clothes I wore earlier that day.
    Disarrayed with another’s.
    Forgien objects as unwelcoming as Boris Johnson upon Election Day.

    I know my script well,
    The pleasure is easy too mimic
    It comes as casual and the batting of a butterflies wing - and as frequent.
    A night spent stuck on repeat just with different bodies
    But the same hollow faces
    Trading his pleasure
    For a moment of my comfort

    And I think

    What is his name?