Sweat slips down like our skin is weeping exactly at the point where it dares to touch. His skin on my skin. And the sweat. As we lie there, and I wonder how long we will lie here before he leaves yet again. I wonder how many days will go by before he calls me back. Gripped in this fleeting moment of passion, only to let go seconds later like we are abandoning each other back to the world. Back to the unknown. I kiss him before he leaves, and I watch him walk out the door because I am always watching him walk out the door. My thighs shake quick at the mere thought of him, but my heart is heavy because he is out there, not with me, yet again, and every day.