he layed there, another night,
alone again.
"you're intriguing, I want to taste your mind"
I listened to him;
from far away I could see him.    
that pale face, so serious with those gentle eyes.
I wanted to see myself in those eyes, and to feel like he was only looking at me.
it was dangerous.
           it was selfish.
it was wrong.          
but **** why did it feel so fucken               good?        
and i said to him-
"I'm poison, the world just doesn't know, **** I don't even know how poisonous I am-
come try me."

they were the different kind.

every time I saw one, i wanted to see how it felt like... to be lust.

how did it feel when he pressed his hands against my chest?

was is different?
or
did it make you feel worse?      
It was almost always, the latter.

Still I wandered off in my mind, and i let it take me places,  
that would make you question my sanity.

was it real when the warmth of his lips thawed my cold heart?

It got exhausting, for my mind only went so far.
I forgot why.
and.
I'm sorry,
what was the
question again?