Whenever I get close to you I think I will lose a leg on a land mine

Boredom, loneliness, and a hard dick are a dangerous combination, especially with nothing to do and no one to talk to. 

I haven't had sex in a month; I haven't made love in even longer. 

You are my girlfriend. You are my best friend. You are my world. You are gone. 

You'll be gone for hours like you have been for the past month, and I'll be at home by myself. When you're out, I usually watch the clock like a television. The red digital numbers constantly changing every 60 seconds, as I think about you coming down the hall, opening the door to the apartment, and stepping inside. I think about you staying, just being around, and pretend you are happy. 

I miss you. Even when you are home, I miss you. 

At night, we sleep on different couches. We eat different meals for dinner. We feel different about each other. 

Right now, you are gone, and I am horny. 

I go into the bedroom, and see a pair of your panties (a charcoal grey thong) on top of the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. I pick them up, take my shirt off, pull down my grey basketball shorts, and boxers with the monkeys eating bananas, to my ankles, and I am naked. 

I hold the thong up to my nose, inhale, and remember what it's like to be inside you. I am a bull in heat that has already been put out to pasture. 

I take a clean pair of your panties,(the powder blue boy shorts with white polka-dots) wrap them around my hard dick, and pretend that you don't turn away when I try to kiss you. I pretend that we are in an alternate universe, and that things aren't actually the way they are. I pretend you still love me. 

I lay down on the couch, and start stroking. Holding the dirty charcoal thong up to my nose, I inhale, collecting your DNA, which I use to create a clone of you in my mind. I close my eyes, and remember you being on top of me saying, "I never want to be with anyone else. I never want to be with anyone except you." Just like the numbers on the clock, with each passing second things change. Feelings change. You and I change. 

I compare the past to now, and get off, having the most painful orgasm I have ever had in my entire life. I make sure not to make a mess in your clean pair of panties so you won't know what they were used for. 

I put your dirty charcoal thong back in the laundry basket, and fold the powder blue boy shorts with the white polka-dots, and put them back on the shelf with the knowledge that the next time you wear them, my dead skin cells will be rubbing up against the most intimate part of your body.