As your mouth twists against mine,
your hands, those beautifully
drag-race-burnt hands,
they twist through my hair
caressing my head, me. I fall into them,
like falling into fresh, crisp leaves in the autumn,
leaning against their simple perfection
and their love.
Its the only thing that keeps me standing, really,
other than your other hand gently on my waist.
---
As your mouth twists against mine,
your hands, those sinister
drag-race-burnt claws,
they twist through my hair
caressing my head, me.
It rakes across my scalp,
like raking leaves across a yard in autumn,
and aches and pains burst from my head.
Blood has been drawn, falling out of my scalp
the way leaves fall off trees.
Its the thing that makes me want to scream,
but you bite my tongue, my lips,
attaching me to you,
drinking up my blood
as I'm forced to drink up the scent of your *****.
The fact that you are holding onto me by my lips is
the only thing that keeps me here, really,
Other than your other hand grabbing on my waist ferociously,
hungrily, I would be gone.