He slipped his hand inside my shirt and brushed against my nipple.
It was as if I had forgotten all that I was
and now I remembered
the ingenuity that was me.
the raging, swirling vortex of contradiction.
The out of control control freak,
the depressed extrovert,
the gasping for every breath as she pushes death down her throat--
Then I woke up.
Sometimes we become strangers to ourselves when we become infatuated husks of lust.
Then when it's over, and we "wake up" we feel as if a piece of us died in the moment. Sexual urges: The never quenching, nevery dying urges. Not much you can do about it. And in the moment, everything feels right, but when it's over you feel sick. Sometimes. Depends on who you're with when you wake up.