filling the void

after every night out, the list goes up. the number of people i kissed keeps going up since you left. constantly searching for strangers to hold me in the way you never did. meaningless hookups in someones garden shed, drunken neck kisses, rough hands grazing my thighs, a strangers lips in place of yours, trying desperately to fill the void you left. but no matter how high the number gets, it's never enough. none of them mean anything compared to how i felt from just the touch of your hand. but you didn't want me. you left. so you don't get to be mad. you don't get to slut shame me or question me or make me feel like shit about it. because i make no apology for how i chose to repair what you broke.