Deadintheroses
No, I don’t love you anymore Looking at you doesn’t make my skin turn into constellations, waiting to be mapped out by your hands But then I see your hands- those same hands, Wrapping around her while I’m sleeping in a bed far away from yours I see your body, and I see her body I see the way you whisper words into her neck I imagine the smell of your skin getting lost in somebody else’s sheets, Sticking to them even after washing And my stomach twists