The soft swoosh of the dark curtains as they close. The rhythmic thump of one heart, then two. The crumpling of fabric as it slides to the floor. The softest padding of feet as they walk towards you.

You almost sigh when you touch his jawbone, the skin so exactly like your own, yet different in the most major of ways. You know this other you is solid, but it feels like it may crumble in front of you, and you slide your hand down to the curve of it's neck. It stares unfeelingly with big, fake eyes—your eyes.

And you shiver as your lips crush the other's, because a portal could open up at any moment and you could never be the same. When it reacts, wrapping it's arms around your neck and ferociously deepening the kiss—if that was the right word—you moan in ecstasy, wrapping one of its legs around your waist. The contact feels wrong, in the worst possible way, but oh so primitive, oh so wild in an excruciatingly secretive fashion.

You quickly realize you can't make it to the bed and collapse, taking the other you down as well. You scramble on top, biting and moaning in the heat of the wicked narcissism you've created, but you can't quite drown out the loneliness gnawing at the edges. Always, you are only with yourself.

Then the panic appears because you can no longer tell the difference between a knock at the door and the thump of the clone's head, back, elbow against the hard floor, the sound of your moans or of an intruder.

But then it's over, and the heartbeats are only one, and you can hear yourself sobbing. You curl up as the tears rip through your chest, and now the loneliness is worse than ever. Now it's gnashing through your ribs, your veins, your heart, and all you want is to bring the empty you back, because who else could love you but you?

And now the sobbing is for another reason, because you feel intoxicated by this sin, and infected by desperation. You close your eyes. With your last bit of energy for the night, you summon another clone, the guilt not quite overpowering your twisted addiction. It curls up behind you, copied arms twining around you to keep you warm through cold dreams.

Who else could love you?