your bangs were silken in sweat, my mind was spinning slowly. i ran my fingers through your thick hair and you rested your hands on the small of my back. i felt the blood in my kneecaps buzzing and my heart heaving blooms that began to burst out at the seams of my hooded coat. you didn’t notice that my eyes were tinted red due to an inner-force, aside from the drugs that i took with you. that night, one of our most jubilant, was when i had my first of bad trips. you were going to leave when the lights cut back on and the music stopped blaring. oh, how i wish you could make me feel as adored as the girls who sing about mushy-gushy love constantly. instead, i am anxious; lying on the bedroom floor at 4 AM without you sighing sweet, scalding lies onto my neck while you bruise my gaunt, upper thighs with the cusp of your unyielding palms.
lust is the only thing we’ve become accustomed to and i suppose that’s why we’re just another broken pair in seattle. i’m exasperated due to putting my utmost effort into this fire that will never burn just as bright as others would. i’m dwelling on the thought of someone that is no longer you, a monochromatic illusion of what was. love isn’t built between those lips of yours, anymore. there is an abundance of doubt.. that i will never discover the cold shoulder that you possess and the exuberant ferocity of dominance i fit under so well. though, i cling to a sliver of hope. i would like to proudly make amends and surpass the idea of you. let’s just keep it to ourselves but i won’t long for those qualities, that you possess, in someone else.
