Fall term begins

I toss, I turn.
Who's that next to me?
Oh yeah,
She’s looking at me.

I reach for the ceiling, my arm is perpendicular to our bodies.
It’s like I’m asking God a question,
but He’s stopped calling on me.

I look at my arm, anyway.
It’s slender, two-toned and tattooed.

Ju(kiss)st me.
Looking at her makes me smile.

I'd like her to ask me if something's wrong, but I hate that question.
So we jus’ kiss. And, that feels good.

Her skin’s soft.
Really, another kiss?
Why thank you.

So, my feelings end up forgotten.

She loves me and I love that.
But, I'm having conflicting thoughts.

What's wrong with me that I'm like this?

It's Just)kiss) tha(ahhh)t the last woman that told me changed her mind.

So, I think: This could be my chance.
Then, I think: She deserves better.

I’m no good tonight.
Does she know this/me/why?
She’s pretty/smart.

I’m a mess right now, I say.
She doesn’t need to hear this.
Oh, she’s kissing me, good.

She can’t see my thoughts even
when I push our heads together.

Right now mine’s tired and drained,
emotionally and physically.
It’s mental obviously.

And she kisses me hard.
And again and is up against me -- we’re close.

There j(k)u(i)s(ss)t the past,
years (between us),
memories (of others),
moments missed (keep kissing),
(Oh, the mistakes I’ve made!)
and, me.

There’s you, I think, looking at my extended fingers,
here, and

Can I just hold onto you?
That’s what I want to do.

She hasn’t seen me in
forever and so she grabs me
(wants to have sex with me).

I’m blah, but maybe
I’ll be better later, when I get back.
But, you’ll be gone soon too,
so what then?

I don’t know, and so should be alone.
No, no one should be.
I’ll end up there. I’m no good at this.
We all will. Who is?

I’m a mess.
I said this and it makes me seem dense.

She bites my lip before I can think more.