And I loved you. And I felt a fire ignite in my tired bones as you wrapped my legs around your waist and dipped my neck beneath the hot cloud of oxygen you were exhaling. You fingers dug into by skin and it created a private meaning of total nonexistent regard. Raw and unhinged and despicably vulnerable. Like desperation or begging for light when its too dark. And I was free like a sunrise on Sunday morning. And I was filled to the brim with passion and I was hungry for more of it. So I shed all of my old skin and let you inside this heaven of darkness I call home so you could light my soul on fire. You may stay all night long.
                                              
                                       {Cheya Wolfe}

Whiskey swam in my stomach and cigarette smoke filled my wretched lungs. But, oh, I wanted to just breathe the scent of your skin and feel you break your way into my soul so their was no longer just me and no longer just you. So when you claimed my veins as your swimming pool and declared my beating heart as your bed, I knew you had found home in me. And I don't deserve to be called your home, but I let you in effortlessly.

                                          {Cheya Wolfe}