you see my ******* but what i want you to see is what lies beyond the skin and ribcage i want you to see my heart and how it yearns for the admiration of who i am and not what you see
your fingers pull my hair but you never seem to reach out to the mind thats endlessly aching for you to remember
that i am not an object made for pleasure
i am human with a mind and soul.
but you’ll see my *******, you’ll remember the scent of my hair you’ll touch me in places that will only give you a moment of satisfaction and never a lifetime of contentment
you will finger me and have me wrapped around you you will admire me endlessly, whispering sweet nothings like you're used to saying them
but will you see me the same way when the morning touches the sheets? will you kiss me good morning and tell my eyes the beauty they behold?
this, i think as i yearn for your warmth that has become non-existent when you left me alone in bed.
the bed that was once our heaven has become my hell.
how *** could be addictive when its an afterthought