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What wouldn't I give, for one more chance...

But you are Judas.
Betrayal hangs thick on you like a monk's cloak; dark and heavy.
Waves of heat and nausea wrack my body. Thinking of you makes me break out in a sweat, my head spins and I lose my appetite faster than a vegan in a McD's.
You are casual in your toxicity, cool in your remorselessness, spitting out words to bruise: "Crazy!"

So I steer clear.
And you remain... living just beneath my skin, in my blood, present with every breath.

What wouldn't I give, for one more chance...

But you are Delilah.
Deception wielded with the skill of a marksman.
Waves of lust and longing consume me, dulling my judgement. It leaves me weak at the knees and weakens my resolve.
You exploit my weaknesses, leaving me wanting.
I am hungry, my appetite for you a deep well; an empty pit: dank, dangerous, deadly.

I am Samson to you; my hair, my sexuality, my faith in us, cut away.
And you remain.
You live where you once lingered... in the nape of my neck, the curve of my back, at the edge of reason.

Digital numbers flashing at me as if to rile.
I groan.
Oh sleep, you fickle friend, when did you and I part ways?
I punch pillows, yank cold blankets up, burrowing under the covers. I reach an arm out into the offending cold and grab my mobile.
I log onto whatsapp seeking connection, you're still there, like a ghost.
Your profile pic taunting me.
"Check out my new pp," you said.
"And that look in your eyes?" I asked.
"I was thinking of you when I took it..."
"Naughty and greedy," I laughed, slightly drunk on lust.

I know that look, it tells the story of us in better times.
It says, "I want you."
It screams, "I can feel you."
It mocks time and distance, sanity and peace.

Like Samson I rise.
The glow of the screen casts shadows on my pale skin.
I stumble through the dark, a shadow of my former self
But I stumble forward nonetheless, touching cold walls to steady me, walking purposefully towards the light.

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The spray of the shower seizes.
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