I would never tell you that I imagine you with her, that I try to go back to that night in my mind.
I remember waking up to a full bladder and in the back of my mind knowing what I would see. You were on the green couch with your legs spread. She is so small she fit her mouth on you and still had room for the rest of her on the rest of the cushion.
I hated you so much then.
I don’t know why it was this time that brought my hate to the surface, I’ve seen you plenty of times with her. Heard her telling me about last night. The sad thing is she doesn’t even think it kills me, she thinks she’s telling about a boy to her friend. I wish she know about the knot I get in my stomach.
After that time we fought and she heard, she won’t tell me about your nightly escapades any more. That’s what scares me. I have to spend the nights tossing and turning imaging you in her and with her. Some nights I’m brave enough to go peek out the door. I’m not sure if I want the drama of seeing her on her knees with you in her mouth, or just hope she’s gone already.
I hate that writing this makes me wet.
