She Couldn't Sleep

Shorty after putting my journal on the nightstand, I flicked off the lamp and lied down next you. I had become accustomed to sleeping alone, and the heat of your body was a bit overwhelming. In an attempt to get more comfortable, I pushed the covers off of me and turned on the fan. Your hot wet skin was a welcome torture, and I pulled you closer as I slipped into oblivion. Not even an hour had passed before you began to squirm. Out of instinct, I tried to hold you down, but before I could get back to sleep, you pulled away from me again. Your arm brushed my cell phone, and you triggered the display. There was a soft blue glow, and I saw a glimpse of your naked body as you slipped into your pants. By the time I had gotten out of bed, you were fully dressed and stuffing things into your purse. I asked you to lie back down, but you refused. You hugged me and told me that you loved me. You whispered the words, "thank you" and walked out of my room while texting someone. After you left, I looked at the clock. It was three forty-two in the morning. Our entire visit was less than four hours, and I was more alone than ever. Seeing you made things worse. I hate myself right now. I hate you for this.