I'm haunted by hotel floors & last month's rent.

The sound of your breath in my ear could have broken me down into one million microscopic pieces on the hotel floor. Your rough skin against the satin sheets was enough to catalyze my monumental meltdown. Your incomprehensible mind, with your frantic thoughts and your flawless fucking facade; you couldn't tell but I was trembling.

Well hat's off, dear, you did it all so fucking well. You knew exactly the right moves to make - you didn't miss a single beat. You made me feel two inches tall. You made me feel more negligible and unimportant than the tacky floral curtains that hung so simply, watching and judging as situations unfolded and then crumpled up. "Stupid, stupid, stupid girl."

I hate myself for falling for it - I hate myself for falling victim to someone else's hand, someone else's disposition. I hate myself for sinking so low, becoming a pawn in your abhorrent little game.

And now I'm sitting in a sad and lonely coffee shop on a humid Wednesday in the summer. I have no idea why I'm wasting my thoughts, time, or ink on you. You trouble me. What happened, happened once, so now it's best in memory. And if I try hard enough, that memory will be bottled up and placed deep in the darkest corners of my mind, with all the other mistakes and misfortunes I've endured. Sooner or later it's like you never really existed at all.

The kiss didn't last, but maybe you'll remember me.