My nose is benumbed with the
chill, and the cold and the numb
but the touch of her thumb
****** the ice out of me
and into her.
My lips were dry without
her warmth, left with the sweet
painful taste of craving
dehydrated,
drained.
My ears hurt with the
screaming, and the constant streaming
of her tears, and the tears,
in her heart,
in her eyes.
My eyes are blinded by the
nothingness, and the stark contrast
of her pale skin, and her pale face,
against the darkness,
the blackness.
and finally,
what do you see
she asks me
there's nothing to see
i reply.
why can't you see
why can't you see
wHYCAN'TYOUSEE
she yells
because you won't let me
i whisper.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC
You are my little secret,
and you will be the death of me.
But I am addicted to the taste of you.
To wrap my lips around you.
To take you into my mouth.
To taste you.
Filling my mouth..
I know which way is best.
Just the tip and ****
I could do this ten times a day,
if you would let me.
Taking you in my mouth,
taking you down as deep as I can.
But I often wish I didn't want it so much.
But I always want more.
Like an addiction.
**** it! you will be the death of me
if I don't give you up.
And at £6.49 for a packet of 18,
you are a very expensive secret.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC