It's just another book

A few hundred pages more.

But that's just what it isn't.

It's another book

That makes my soul clench.

A few hundred pages

That make me weep.

Just a few alphabets strung together

Only a million sentences.

A few strung together alphabets

That hold the door to my smile.

A million sentences

That make me who I am.

Hell is this apartment without him. The home we shared is silent now, full of ghosts and memories, and me. Hell is his ball cap dangling off the banister post. Hell are his clothes hanging in the closet. Hell are his keys, tossed carelessly on the dresser. Hell is the beer in the fridge, his soap in the shower, a lone sock dropped in the corner by the bed. It's the echo of his voice bouncing off these empty walls.

Hell is our bed, too big and too cold without him. Hell is his scent still lingering on the pillows. It's waking up in the morning, reaching out to touch him, only to come up empty. Hell is the empty space behind me, where he used to snuggle close. It's the small part of my waist, where his arm would grow heavy in sleep. Hell is the spot on the back of my neck where his breath would graze. Hell is this loneliness, this empty void he left me with.

Hell is looking around and seeing him everywhere. Hell is that foolish hope that he could walk back in the door at any moment. Hell is me, living alone. Hell is sharing a home with his ghost. Hell is this limbo state I'm in. Unable to hold him, unable to let go.

•••••••••break•••••••••

The night is still and silent, but for the crickets chirping busily in the dark. It's almost summer, the clean desert air is warm on my bare arms. I hear footsteps moving purposefully up the driveway towards me. He steps into the light by my neighbors front door and my breath catches. Same blue eyes, same tousled blond hair, same California beach boy good looks. This one is a little taller, a little thicker....but in his eyes I see that same cocky twinkle possessed only by boys who know how good looking they are. He starts to speak, but I hold my finger up to my lips, nodding towards the neighbors silent doors. Shhhhh.....

He comes through the front door, I have my back to him as I close it. Shutting my eyes briefly, what am I doing? This isn't the man I want, this isn't the man I love. This is a substitute, a quick bandaid to cover my wounded heart. This isn't right.

But then the thought of another lonely night makes me want to die. The one I want isn't here. The one I want isn't lonely. I turn around and face this one. He's smiling at me, he speaks again. His voice is deeper, there's a hint of an accent there. Different. But he's not here for conversation, and I silence him by leaning forward and pressing my lips to his. It's a hello, a question. An unfamiliar taste, a mix of toothpaste and mystery.

My hands slide up his chest and over his shoulders. They're a bit broader, a bit wider. I snake my arms around his neck and his arms circle my waist, pulling me closer as his kiss deepens. His tongue in my mouth, I'm arching backwards as the kiss shifts from getting-to-know-you to getting-inside-you. I break away and see his crystal blue eyes have darkened with desire, just as his do.

I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. Standing at the foot of the bed, I grab his face and bring him back in for a kiss. A bit of stubble, rough against my palm. Different. He had a beard, fuzzy and soft. I chase the thought of him out of my head as our tongues dance wildly. His kiss deepens and as I fall backwards onto the bed I can feel the power shift. I let it go, gladly. I'm living in this moment only. I will not think of the past, nor the future, nor of my broken heart. I will think only of this second, and the anticipation building in my body, and this hot body pressed against mine. I will submit to this moment of passion, I will relinquish my power to this man, for this moment, I will trust him to drive all the sadness out of me. He is on top of me, his mouth and hands are everywhere, my heartbeat is quickening at the sensations.

I grab his shirt and pull it over his head, sliding my hands down his rib cage and hip bones. Feeling the smooth ridges, his golden skin is hot beneath my fingers. He is up on his knees, I am kissing his neck, the short stubble rubbing my smooth skin with friction. I lower my head and bite, closing his collarbone gently between my teeth. Lower, lips and tongue teasing and flicking along his chest. Lower, nibbling the warm, taut skin of his abdomen.

He's pulling my dress, yanking it up and over, it's tossed on the floor and I smile at his quick intake of breath. I hate underwear. I lay on my belly in front of him, nuzzling, my tongue is tracing the ridges that delineate his abdomen. The glowing expanse of warm skin has only a light sprinkling of hair, trailing from his belly button and disappearing into his shorts. I lick my way around his stomach, mapping the firm, golden skin with my mouth. My hands are on his hipbones, my breath has quickened.

Taking in this unknown scent, inhaling deeply as my lips brush over firm skin, finding that V. A different V than the one I want, the one I love. But tonight, this one is here and my tastebuds are developing an appreciation for this unaccustomed flavor. Digging my fingers into fiery skin, feeling the goosebumps rise as my breath sends chills through him. He inhales sharply again as I bite down once more, harder this time. He jumps a bit, and I laugh with delight. This is familiar. This is indulgence and titillation and gratification. This is my validation.

Then his hands are tangling in my hair and he's pulling me up. I go slowly, trailing lips and tongue over abs and chest, nibbling on his collarbone, biting harder into the skin near his neck. My hands are gripping firm biceps, reveling the firmness and heat. His hands are roaming wildly, up and down my rib cage, kneading my bottom, over my breasts.

I'm reminded that I surrendered control as he pushes me backwards and this time it's his mouth blazing a trail over my breasts and down my belly. His lips are hot and my heart is racing. His breath coming quickly sends jolts at each exhalation. I jump a bit when his mouth moves over that spot on my ribs that I like so much. He notices and as his hands grip my hips holding me in place, his mouth burns hot against my skin. I'm wriggling beneath him, losing myself in the diversion he brings.

There's a fire building deep in me; wantonly, with abandon, I'm going to let this stranger put it out. For the first time in weeks, I'm feeling something other than despair. It may be wrong but at this moment I don't want to be right. For the first time since he left me, I feel alive.

My hands grip his hair, it's shorter, but soft. There is excitement churning deep in me as his stubbled cheeks and chin rub against the smooth skin of my belly and thighs. He slides off the bed suddenly, he's on his knees on the floor. He grabs my thighs and yanks me down lower, then his face is buried in me and I'm absolutely lost to the thrill of this strange tongue toying with my center. Abruptly, he stops, pulling me up, and the next thing I know I'm on hands and knees on the bed, and then his mouth is back on me, and his tongue is lapping at me and this is different and this is foreign and this is really fucking good.

That bubble of excitement is blossoming, growing larger and more urgent with the ministrations of his mouth. His hands join in, and as his finger enters me, I grab a pillow and bite down. I'm going to explode at any moment. The stubble on his cheeks is going to leave whisker burn tomorrow, but for now....right now...it's driving me closer to the edge and it's thrilling and lascivious. One hand rears back and lands with a loud smack on my ass cheek and that's when I lose it, I'm tumbling over the edge, muffling my cries into the pillow as swells of pleasure wash over my body, leaving me trembling.

He stands up holding my hips still, then I hear the sounds of a wrapper opening as he lets go. A moment later, he's gripping my hips firmly again and then with a forceful thrust he's all the way inside, opening me up in one long stroke. I cry out, that gratifying mix of pleasure and pain, that is exactly how I like it. He begins moving, slowly at first, driving deep. I am pushing my body backwards into him, feeling that tension building again.

Without warning, I'm arched backwards as he grabs my hair and pulls me up. One arm encircles my waist while the other remains entwined in my long hair, bringing me upright until I'm standing on my knees, with him still buried inside me. "I'm in charge here," he says, breath hot against my neck. "Got it?" I nod breathlessly.

He begins moving again, torturously slow. I can't help but wiggle, trying to get more. Trying to feed that hungry thing inside me. Suddenly, my head is yanked back again and the arm encircling my waist snakes it way up until his hand is over my throat. A pressure, my heart begins racing even faster. "What'd I say?" He demands. At my silence his hands tighten, using my hair to arch my throat back even farther, his other hand gripping my neck even tighter.

"You're in charge," I whisper, willingly acquiescing. Instantly, he withdraws and I'm lifted off the bed and tossed on my back as if I weigh no more than a feather. I scramble backwards as he grabs my ankles and pulls me forward. I quit wiggling, looking up into darkened blue eyes, so similar to his. The corner of his mouth turns up, a cocky smirk that is undeniably sexy. He hooks his arms under my knees and pulls me further, I'm half off the bed.

My eyes stay locked on his as he places my ankles together, straight up in the air. He places one knee on the bed and licks my calf, his hands sliding down to my knees. He begins nibbling the back of my calf, down to my thighs, I feel like my body is humming with tension while he toys with me. But I hold still obediently and within moments, his right hand is back at me, probing, entering. I stay perfectly still, maintaining eye contact as he teases me, goosebumps dot my flesh as his mouth sends chills coursing down my legs.

Finally, an eternity later, he smiles and before I can blink, my knees are hooked over his shoulders, my back is lifted off the bed, and he is driving into me with such powerful force that immediately brings me to orgasm. I'm crying out helplessly as he rocks into my body, I'm twisted up like a pretzel as waves of ecstasy wash over me. He continues to drive into me mercilessly, the orgasm peaks, and ebbs and then begins climbing again as the thrusts into me with reckless abandon. I'm biting his shoulder, my nails are leaving long red gouges in his back as I cross the precipice once more. I sink my teeth in his sculpted shoulder, crying out as my body clenches around him, this time bringing him with me over the edge. With a moan in my ear, he thrusts one final time, then collapses on me.

I lay there and he rolls off next to me. My body is tired, sated, and the thought occurs that tonight, perhaps at last I will get some decent sleep. He is speaking, I'm not sure what he's saying, I'm aware only if the deep hum of his voice and the slow drawl of his words. My eyes are growing heavy.

"---okay, Julia," he says, and leans over to get his shorts, he's getting dressed. Momentary confusion, then I remember Julia was the fake name I had given him. "Mmmm-hmmm," I answer, unsure of the question. I roll onto my belly, still naked and reach for my cigs on the night table. "I'll call you," I say, as I light one, hearing the lie and wondering if he does too.

Acrid smoke fills my lungs as my heart rate returns to normal. There's something always so satisfying to me, that first pull of a cigarette after sex. I'm humming, lost in my own satiated daze as I feel his hand trail over my ass and up my spine, finally closing at the back of my neck. He leans down and kisses me on the mouth and says good night.

The front door opens and closes softly. The sweetly sad melodies playing from my phone seem louder, now that I'm alone again. I snuff out my cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. I smoke wherever the hell I want to, now that I live alone.

My eyes are heavy, my body is limp from the evenings exertions. Halsey's clear voice is like a lullaby, and I realize with relief, that for once, my spin cycle brain has gone still. Gratefully, I close my eyes as blissful sleep takes over.

••••••break•••••••••

Morning light through my windows force me out of my deep slumber. Naked, stretching like a cat. My body is a little tender and I push back a little, to discover I'm alone in the bed. Confusion, I thought I felt his breath on my neck. I thought I felt his arm on my waist, his body pressed behind me, cuddling, holding me close. My eyes pop open, glancing into the bathroom....empty. I sit up, examining his side of the bed closer. It is still made up, though rumpled.

My eyes fill with tears like they do most mornings, if I sleep. I always wake up looking for him. Bitterly, I wonder if I always will. Because every morning I search without finding feels like I'm ripping off a scab, reopening an unhealed wound. Blood pours endlessly from this injury, yet I never die, and I never heal. I bleed and bleed and bleed. Every morning he is still gone, it is a fresh heartbreak to realize again.... still.... forever.... he isn't coming back.

The echoes of our life surround me.

But I live here alone.

I’m on my second beer when he sits down beside me at the crowded bar.

At first, I don’t acknowledge him, because I’m way too busy staring at the picture of JewBoy87’s penis on my phone and wondering when my life came to this.

Firstly, who sexts pictures of their genitals at eight p.m. on a Friday night? Someone with no life, who has nothing better to do than come home from work, make dinner for himself, before stripping down and taking photos at various angles of his very erect, very pink penis. Or someone who just has a folder entitled ‘Dick Pix’ on their smartphone just for show-and-tell moments like this...