Most peoples hearts break,
Mine?
It **
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I want to feel
your soft lips pressed tightly
against my kiss
making their way across my cheek,
i want to feel,
you whisper in my ears
i want you
as our desires
admit defeat.

I want to feel
your fingers slowly make their way
down my neck,
and slide up my vest
i want to feel
your hot breath
dancing its way
across every inch
of my chest.

i want to feel
our bodies collide
as you make soft music
out of mine.
i want to feel you
draw pictures
out of the claw marks
along my spine.

I want to feel
your tongue
make its down my stomach
and between my thighs
i want to feel
your fingers slip
gently
inside.

I want to feel
you slowly
take your tongue and
those hungry red lips
cradling, caressing,
tasting, savouring
between my
pleading hips,

I want to feel
my palms smashing
into our
headboard
as I beg you,
again and again
please baby,
just once
more.

I want to feel
my legs shake,
as you create an
earth quake inside
of me
that'll leave me quivering
for days.

I want our pillows
embedded and engrained
scents, tastes
memories
that put our wildest
fantasies and dreams
to shame.

I carefully stitched your name
embroidered each memory,
each beautiful piece of art
into the delicate walls
of my beating heart.
I put aside the threat of pain,
the tearing apart,
the risk of scars that would remain,
in the hope that I would never
have to
unpick, unfasten,
you, again.

How I was wrong.
And the unstitching never gets easier
and the short sharp scratch
Each time, you work your way back
Hurts just as much as the last.

I write the kind of poetry
That gets stuck to the roof of your mouth
That you'll choke on as you swallow down.

I write the kind of poetry
that once you recite,
Sets your oesophagus ablaze,
leaves you burning around the edges
but still staring in amaze.
engulfed in flames for
years not days.

I write the kind of poetry
That you'll spend centuries
Trying to extract from the
Ringing in your ears
As the dangerous impacts
Only grow
And in you, bellow.

I write the kind of poetry
that gets embedded deep within your fingertips
and buries itself securely under your skin
The kind of poetry you'd rip yourself to shreds
In an attempt to
Tear apart, dislodge
Each stanza circling
within.

I write the kind of poetry
You could try to wash
off a thousand times
But that remains engraved
Deep within the wrinkles and lines
The creases of your mind.

Love like fire
Is a very beautiful and dangerous thing.

My anxieties have a way of strangling me
And snatching life from under me
Better than any noose
Ever could

I want to feel your fingers slip up my vest, feel your hot breath dancing down my chest.

I want my pillow embedded with memories of you that put fantasies and dreams to shame. I want scents, moans, tastes engrained.

I want my naked skin weaved around yours, I want to leave claw marks along your spine as you beg for more, smash your palms into our headboard.

I want to feel your legs shake, as I start an earth quake inside of you, that'll leave you quivering for days.