As we’re lying down I breath in your scent, the scent of your cologne, your heavy musk.
It fills my lungs with each breath I take, like the way baked goods do when they come fresh out of the oven.
Together we feel each other’s skin.
I trace the outside lines of your soft yet firm muscle until I make my way up to your face; one that resembles mine.
One that has dark spots and whiteheads.
One that makes us so frustrated in our skin but we share that.
So I place my hand on this skin, the skin that resembles mine and caress it like it’s this perfect plum that I’m about to take a bite out of.
My eyes are locked with yours, as if we are looking right through them, right into our skulls.
Trying to read each other’s mind.
Ironically we are both thinking the same thing.
I pull in, you pull in, we pull in and take a deep juicy bite out of each other.
I feel your tongue and you feel mine as we taste the juices we give to each other.
Our hearts, they beat on a time that only loves sets.
A beat that feels so great, so great our hearts connect.
Our lips disconnect and we’re back to laying down.
Trying to catch our breath, we breathe in and breathe out, breathe in and breathe out.
Until the point where I’m breathing what you let out and I’m breathing recycled air.
That same air, the air of your musk or cologne, the air that feels like baked goods, when they come fresh out of the oven.
Our eyes connect back to each other, looking right into our skulls.
But this time we know what we’re thinking.
And we’re thinking “I love you”.
A poem I made for my lying, slick ex-boyfriend. He read it in front of my face with zero emotions. I hope those who read it enjoy it more than he did.