you see my *******
but what i want you to see
is what lies beyond the
skin and ribcage
i want you to see
my heart
and how it yearns for
the admiration of who i am
and not what you see
your fingers pull my hair
but you never seem to reach out
to the mind thats endlessly
aching for you to remember
that i am not an object
made for pleasure
i am human with a mind and soul.
but you’ll see my *******,
you’ll remember the scent of my hair
you’ll touch me in places
that will only give you
a moment of satisfaction
and never a lifetime of contentment
you will finger me and have me wrapped around you
you will admire me endlessly,
whispering sweet nothings
like you're used to saying them
but will you see me the same way
when the morning touches the sheets?
will you kiss me good morning
and tell my eyes the beauty they behold?
this, i think
as i yearn for your warmth
that has become non-existent
when you left me alone in bed.
the bed that was once our heaven has become my hell.
how *** could be addictive when its an afterthought