Postmortem 

When you loved me you loved with a vengeance. When you touched me you made me feel wanted. You’re distracted now. You’ve been distracted by two. I wish I was your one. I can’t get that back.
I’ve spent the past year healing from heartbreak. The process is excruciating. My mind is tormented by her rendezvous with multiple partners. The trust, vulnerability, and intimacy that we once shared scattered among the masses. A jealous rage consumed me. I fantasize endlessly of all the roles and keep her at arm’s length and deeply satisfied. We can kiss and fondle one another for hours on end. We stop to eat for she has an insatiable appetite. I like to watch her. She has a stunning beauty that can cripple an amputee to their knees. Her lips and tongue engulf the glass of which she drinks and you are thirsty for more.
I must finish the chapter and write the ending. I must strip our sheets that bare the stains of many hot, wicked nights in her sex and curve of her body. It has been almost a year since I’ve kissed, smelled, fucked, and devoured a woman. It is time to find my way back home.