Two O'clock Ranting

It's two o'clock right now
But I can't sleep.
I can't fucking sleep,
Because I can't forget the way you tasted when you kissed me.
Your fingers still linger
On my nipples...
Between my legs.
The days that you've been gone haven't tampered with my memory of you kissing down my neck, your hands smacking against the wall behind me as you pushed my back against the cracked wood.
I can still feel you moving against me, under me, over me, behind me.
I'm helpless to the surges of passion that rise and rise in your absence.
It's two o'clock but I can't fucking sleep,
And my hand is a shitty substitute.