You speak with discretion.

I attempt a reply,

Struck by apprehension.

Sitting in anticipation,

Awaiting the revelation,

Of your outright lie.

The blacktop stings the palms of my hands and burns my fingertips.

My legs feel the crunch of gravel beneath them.

I spit blood. Warm and metallic.

Somehow I manage to rise to my feet.

My knees are in shock. They quake profusely.

I stare at you, astounded. The sun lights your face.

A warm smile appears there.

A sharp blow to the stomach.

Back down.

Pain shoots up my spine.

My head throbs. With each beat, I hear your name.

Again, I crawl from my knees to my feet.

Desperation.

And again, you strike me down.

Repeat the process.

Repeat the process.

Repeat the process.

With a potent kiss,

Delve into the depths of my jaded heart and lose yourself in me,

Burrow and latch yourself inside.

Synchronize with the remains of my mortal being.

Surge through a mess of broken veins and arteries,

Interfere with the synapses in my brain and dizzy my fragmented mind.

Send me dancing through a euphoria of vertigo.

Become a part of me, with a potent kiss.

I am a Woman of Words,

But with you as the subject matter,

No amount of poetry or prose

Could ever suffice.

In the absence of temperance,

I indulge in you.

Submerging myself into the depths of your being,

With an insatiable thirst for your flesh.

Drinking your essence with my lips,

Becoming intoxicated,

Dominated by the power of your skin.

A servant to your body.

I worship you.

In the absence of temperance.

Structure.

Stability.

Rigidity.

Critical view.

Thoroughness.

Totality.

Honesty.

Remnants of a cataclysm,

Drift over my feet.

I stand paralyzed,

Gazing upon the ruins.

Slow thoughts,

Followed by slow emotions,

Settle down.

I shift my position.

Helplessly breathing,

With nothing left to grasp.