Multiple Matteresses

The unfortuate reality of a stalker

There are too many matteresses in my life-
across town is a long way for the unwilling.
Lethargic afteronns are a blissful memory.
My hands do the devil's work but they are far from idle.

Satisfaction escapes me by unimaginable numbers.
Heavy days need every moment planned.
I glance vaguely over my shoulder
daring to be caught.

My eyes stick together with sleep
and sex- they are no longer bright peepers.
Toes wriggle deceptively, and my mouth
is well trained. Stability?

Away again in a haze of excuses
and you (the real you) watch
half heartedly as the woman you like
trips away unhappily.

Alone, you pause then rewind
my show and forget everything.
The mind repeats as i search for stop.
Time is my enemy and I can hold nothing. Here.

Stomach full of dread I realise
I belong to someone else again.
My chest pounds with regret as he
looms obnoxiously above me. Do you know?

And you. Always you.
I want to dig my whore-claws into you and never
let go. But i am too yellow.
He makes my skin itch with torment.

It wasn't really me.