Starving myself mentally for you
You know what I'm talking about
How I make myself think "its not that serious"
But wouldn't it be if to you, you want me to devout?
You make me feel like self imploding is real
Being with you makes me not able to stand myself sometimes
I've come this far just to take every backwards step with you
I've been moaning your name while begging for you to throw away my time

It's painful bliss being unable to acquire innocent love, when emotion and attention isn't what you're yearning, but rather rustled sheets and a sleepy "That was amazing" in the morning.
Addicted to this intangeable drug, you find yourself craving even a sweet, sweet brush of it at anytime of day, continuous biting, tasting, and embracing as if we were each other's prey.
Hard and grippingly wet like a rocky waterfall, lingerie wraps around your slim torso and becomes overflowing with bust, not even skin to skin yet his eyes are flaming with lust.
His desperate yet patient desire may possibly be what spikes yours,  making you drenched with almost-painful passion, and theres no avoiding the explosive climaxing when his mouth is circling you in a deep and slow fashion.

Its always the same but it could never get old
Even completely naked I dont seem to feel cold
With your warm mouth tracing along my chest
Thats when, along with this series of events, my legs unfold
Finders keepers, I'm yours for the taking
Even the thought of this feeling has my legs shaking
And when you slowly are rocking inside me
Thats when I know this is love making

Constantly in question
So much time people invest in
Searching for something more
Knowledge of something to live for
Does it do more harm then good
To search for something not understood
Is it just a mask we wear
Because of unknown, endless fear
Is love real
Is it even something we feel
If not, what is my purpose?
If so, who must've done this on purpose?

forcing the sweet nectar out of this rotten fruit
feeling impoverished as I know I'm acting out of desperation
I'm too weak to reach for another from the tree
the repeated jumping I've done has taken all of the strength from me
I reach for a ladder but find a bottle
its definitely not sweet but it'll ground me for a while
now I cant stop drinking this welcoming, burning juice
because I'm nervous I wont stick my landing if I'm able to jump again
our fruit has long been spoiled
rotting from deprivation of attention and care
I had my head in the mud with my bottle beside me
and your head was looking miles away, unaware that I was lying face down right next to the legs of the throne you placed yourself in