Infidelity

The affairs by nature fill both the need to self destruct, and the need to self serve.

No other experience can cause you to hate yourself more, or to feel more alive.

The lying, the betrayal, the running out into the night.

Without exception it fills you with disgust, guilt, and shame, but if that were all it brought you, you wouldn’t bother doing it.

It also evokes a rush, a sense of control, and a feeling that you have found a way to have it all: the love, and the lust.

It seems almost as if when the sun goes down, it drags your morals away with it.

The phone rings, and you’re faced with a choice:

To lye with or lie to the one you tell yourself you love.

Excuses made, and bases covered, you leave your bed for another.

Hidden beneath the cover of the night sky, your secret will be safe. 

The game begins, upon your arrival.

A love from the past has been granted permission to resurface, but only for a night.

The drinking comes first, accompanied of course by inappropriate emotional exchange.

The most fun is found in seducing, that and the way you both pretend not to know how the night would end, telling yourselves your only intentions are to converse.

Making them want you, watching as they pursue you, this is where the high kicks in.

Subtle suggestive actions like brushing up against your leg is enough to set your skin on fire.

And the drugs and alcohol do their job to hush the sound of your better judgment.

Your minds drunk with lust, liquor, and adrenaline. 

Then almost without your realizing, you find yourself pressed beneath the body of another man.

Your motives can no longer be mistaken as innocent, and now its all becoming too real.

Your body is present, but your mind travels elsewhere.

It was intoxicating when it was only an idea, a fantasy, but now that it has moved from imagination to reality, it hardly seems as glamorous. 

It always would work this way.

You craved this moment all the way up to its arrival.

Physically I feel the increased heart rate, the breathing growing heavy, the sweat, the urgency of it all. My body is involved, but my mind stops. 

I think nothing, I feel nothing, I just want it to be over.

When we are both once again upright, I can hardly bring myself to make eye contact.

Daylight will come soon, and I wont have anywhere to hide from what I’ve done.

With the morning comes the hangover, the guilt, the goodbyes.

Leaving this bed for my own, I return home, and shower immediately,

To wash away the filth, the evidence, and if it were possible, the memory.

Reviews

[Incendiary Grievances]

"Physically I feel the increased heart rate, the breathing growing heavy, the sweat, the urgency of it all. My body is involved, but my mind stops."
If only. Maybe instead of a stop, your mind simply becomes more active. Maybe instead of being in the moment, you are drifting into the guilt of your actions, and maybe if you allowed yourself to do so earlier, you would be able to stop. But maybe you wouldn't.
This makes it seem as though someone (maybe you) has given up. But there's some strength left when you try to wash away a memory. As long as you are not devoid of emotion, you exist in a world where you can do right, even if others cannot.

[Revery]

credibility through intensity

[Arachne.]

this is too real. and painful

[screamin'ian]

Excellent work.

[RainQueen]

Brutally stark piece. You described the blow-by-blow with the searing intensity it deserves. The lead-up, the slide, the crash. It happens. And sometimes it's for the best.

[Lost]

So good. So insightful. Too familiar. Welcome to humanity...