Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
I'd rather be kissed hard than anything else. Grabbed, pushed, pulled, tugged, bitten at. Pain doesn't drive me insane, does it? That sense of realization, that spark of hurt I feel, I know I'm alive. When I'm treated rough, I know I'm alive. I'm addicted to that feeling, even if pain inflicted from others is what gets me there. I would want him to push me against a wall, hard enough that my skin digs into the harshness of it as his mouth sloppily finds mine. He can tear the air from my lungs with every move he makes, making it impossible for me to catch my breath like I'm trying to breath as a fire's going on, the flames licking at my skin with a red hot tongue. He can scratch at my skin, pulling me closer, as if being near will fill the empty void, the endless cloud of self hatred buried deep in the lust that we both feel. He can bite and **** at my neck, my mouth, my chest, desperately trying to taste every bit of me like a wolf on a hunt He can toss me and pull me and treat me like I'm nothing while whispering "you're everything" off his fire tongue as I'm just savouring my addiction of feeling alive. My addiction of pain. My addiction of rough.
0
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Addict
I'd rather be kissed hard than anything else. Grabbed, pushed, pulled, tugged, bitten at. Pain doesn't drive me insane, does it? That sense of realization, that spark of hurt I feel, I know I'm alive. When I'm treated rough, I know I'm alive. I'm addicted to that feeling, even if pain inflicted from others is what gets me there. I would want him to push me against a wall, hard enough that my skin digs into the harshness of it as his mouth sloppily finds mine. He can tear the air from my lungs with every move he makes, making it impossible for me to catch my breath like I'm trying to breath as a fire's going on, the flames licking at my skin with a red hot tongue. He can scratch at my skin, pulling me closer, as if being near will fill the empty void, the endless cloud of self hatred buried deep in the lust that we both feel. He can bite and **** at my neck, my mouth, my chest, desperately trying to taste every bit of me like a wolf on a hunt He can toss me and pull me and treat me like I'm nothing while whispering "you're everything" off his fire tongue as I'm just savouring my addiction of feeling alive. My addiction of pain. My addiction of rough.
sunflowersuggestion
Written by
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem