Open my eyes from an eventful night, check my phone to see an array of messages and he’s not hear. Sorry he’s not here. The alcohol and drugs are still in my system, blurry eyed it’s been a crazy night. From missionary to cowgirl, from the bed to the chair, from the shower to the living room. This sweet lovers flow has the butterflies in my stomach rallied up or is it the just the drugs? I turn to the side of the bed in this sub par hotel room, swing my arm across only to figure out I’m alone. Maybe he’s gone to get me breakfast, so I can have it in bed. Or maybe just maybe he’s gone to get me my favourite wine, moscato the pink or the white my feelings I can’t deny. Slowly coming to my senses, I check my phone again. Snap messages, Twitter DMs, flipping heck them iMessage too. What could have happened to cause this rift between me and you. What was once a good night, crashed came all tumbling down.
To be continued
KwameSayss
The French Chronicles 
Can feel the emotions in this beautiful post. It’s so relatable.
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Probably going to write a sequel to it and keep the story going
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