It's when I think about you the most.
In the wee small hours,
When I can't sleep.
Because of you.
It's your fault.
I say it often and it's true.
You have no right to make me feel the way you do.
Constant simultaneous conflicting emotions.
I know it's just sex between us.
But I feel more.
I know it's not the same for you.
You love another, after all.
I feel more of a connection.
Not just physically but mentally too.
I know when you are going to call or send a message.
It's no surprise: I sense it.
But I am scared.
I don't know the rules to your game.
I don't have the capacity to learn.
Perhaps I never will.
It's okay for you.
You have been here before.
But I know you will get sick of me, eventually.
And I won't know what else to do.