Fuck the past, the present, and the future
If we even have one.
I want to be strung up and tangled in your mighty grasp,
Gasping for air between wet mouth kisses and clasping your clammy skin.
I want to forget about the fucked up idea of the world and the form it's taken in society,
And instead take in you, between cigarette drags and Southern Comfort swigs.
I want to feel the pulse of your heart as you ignite with excitement underneath me as our hot skin touches and you yearn for me.
Remember my presence, because passion does not come calling when sought,
It finds its way to you.
And if this fucked up world has brought me to you,
Then here it is-
This is the passion stupid girls like me write shitty poetry about.