It's getting late. The clock is ticking and I await for you to urge me to leave...but you don't. I can tell you've played with the idea of me being here until the morning but I can't. I can't stay. I have used you for my own needs. A man to support the moments I ease into with every meeting. This is not right. You're watching me, needing me, craving me, yearning...for me. I pray this is not love in your eyes. I pray that the things you whisper to me are lies. How ironic. This is not what I want. Not you. I oh so foolishly lead you to believe this is love when it's nothing more than a quest of lust. I crave only sexual intimacy. The moans of intense pleasure. The marks on my skin left to remind me of the pleasureful moment of nights before...but I do not crave love. The time ticks on and the want to leave creeps up my neck sending a warm wave through my body. I don't love him and I hope he does not love me. I'm going to hurt him. These are the thoughts that occupy my mind. I manage to spill out a few words as I stand to break away and leave, "Come here." The wrong words that fall off of my lips like water. Another mistake and I still don't care.
