three nights at the motel

i keep thinking about his tattoos. when i used to stare at them through the small creeping light that came through the window, i would think about someone else. the flowers on his back reminded me of the flowers i used to see on someone else's chest. i would trace the scar on his back, and close my eyes and think of that other person. i was confused. there was an awareness of the person in front of me, but i missed the way things used to be...the other person who would lay where he was now. i would think of him in those early morning hours. never at night, no. i would not think of him at night. but, when i would wake up...i could only think of him and what he could be doing. 

but now i don't have anyone. 

and i can't tell who i miss more. before, it was one feeling of heartbreak. but now i deal with two.