Losing It

My first time in bed
was not spent in a bed.
Our couch smelled of whisky and weed.

My first time in bed
left me somewhat confused.
Passionate-less passion.

My first time in bed
had me yearning for more.
A mutual air of aroused disappointment.

My first time in bed
was intruded upon.
We laughed and the moment was dead.

I laid on the sofa and
watched as she dressed.

I fell asleep
alone.

[1](https://www.reddit.com/r/ocpoetry/comments/8eda6j/_/dxv1su2) [2](https://www.reddit.com/r/ocpoetry/comments/8eg5wl/_/dxv2dsb)