It had been only four hours.

Four hours since I had lay beside her in bed, tracing my fingertip along the curve of her collarbone.
Four hours since she sighed deeply and closed her eyes.
Four hours since I brushed the hair out of her pale face so I could see those eyes like emeralds.
Four hours since I had turned my gaze towards her pale limbs, wrapped in pristine sheets of white.
Four hours since she whispered something I didn’t quite catch, but I knew was beautiful.
Four hours since I brought my lips to meet hers under the sweetest circumstances.
Four hours since we turned desperate and the silence just wasn’t satisfying anymore.
Four hours since skin on skin was sharp as glass.
Four hours since the hunger for touch was too much to bear.
Four hours since the physical outweighed the emotional.
Four hours since I took everything she was willing to give me.
Four hours since I moaned into her neck and dug into her thighs.
Four hours since we dressed in silence and I went out into the night.
Alone.