Sometimes at night he grabs me and kisses me full on the lips with forgotten passion. We heave against each other for quiet seconds, searching each other for some answer to all the wrongs.
He never remembers in the morning.
Last night he caught me up and I was limp, and still he pushed himself against me and caressed me with surprising tenderness.
I wish I knew who she was, that dream girl who inspires him so. She is lucky to have all of his passion and none of his spite.
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