Awake, in the middle of night.

How does it feel to remain awake,

in the middle of the night,

as the darkness covers everything.

With the scent of sweat and the

exhaustion of just concluded coitus

hanging around the room heavily.

How does it happpen, this loveless

locking of bodies , to satisfy some

primal desire in such a boring routine.

To flush out the pain within, spurting out

in spasms of desire , with the anguished cry

from the inner recess of a fractured soul.

The silhoutte in the shadows lying across

facing the wall in a satiated slumber ,

evenly breathing ; lingering in the pleasures

explored, maybe dreaming.

Or is it really so ?

The dead of the night plays tricks on the mind.

Suddenly suspicious, the hand extends in the

old habit to reassure the ego.

What a shock it is to touch the bare body

which was so warm in the fire of lust,

only a few minutes back;

now feels so cold and icy like a cadaver .