Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
It looks like no writer
can escape the clutches
of their true inspiration.
I preoccupy my mind continually and intrusively
with the way you look at me.
A smile that radiates innocence
can sometimes carry a hidden impulse.
Don't you yearn for my touch?

A nonchalant look can be deceitful
because behind the content
undisclosed desires may be kept.
Playful jokes tend to be masked confessions.
Do you crave my attention?

The smell of smoke could subtly evoke
images of fire; a wish to flare and provoke.
Maybe looking at smoke reminds me of you
because I frequently wonder
why something so hazardous
could look so tempting.

Some sounds could easily make people sin,
let their souls swoon and their bodies rampage.
Certain words could instantly make my head spin.
*Tell me, darling, do you ache for my lips?
You make me feel irrational,
yet I profoundly enjoy analyzing your temperament;
you inspire and fascinate me completely.

When your gaze wanders, I love the hellish feeling I get
because hell has that specific taste that makes your palms sweat;
much like watching you light up your cigarette.
Never change your attitude, darling, I love the way you drive me insane.

I **** time by keeping myself busy at night
wondering why would someone's lips want to touch such a fire as mine
if they hadn't wanted to be scorned by my desire
and to be left with the scars of my passionate motion.

Better stay away from me,
don't trigger something I can't tackle,
because I just want to be adored,
meaning I won't catch any hearts if they fall.

— The End —