How am I dry
When years of anticipation are melting like a glacier?
All I’ve ever wanted
Is standing at the end of my bed
With his cold hands
pulling apart my thighs
So why am I fighting so hard
To get out of my head?
When he looked into my eyes
I saw guilt staring back at me.
When he kissed my lips,
He hated that they tasted unmistakably mine
And not of his lovers.
Our timings never been “okay”,
I should have taken that as a sign
To keep this a fantasy.