Perhaps, you and I are too rough sometimes. Me, as I try in vain, to hide my basorexia for you. And you, as you nonchalantly armor your heart against my advances while whispering unintelligible protests.
Turning my teeth towards yours, shining with my appetence for you and yours, gently trembling as I ravage you blindly, wildly. A slow crescendo. Getting my fill of you, my cacoethes.
(hush hush don’t move) fingertips tracing my chaccone deeper into your skin.
I dismantle you madly, instinctively.
Leaving in the morning, albeit too silently yet fervently.
Overwhelmed, I go in search of rain.
Turning my teeth towards yours, shining with my appetence for you and yours, gently trembling as I ravage you blindly, wildly. A slow crescendo. Getting my fill of you, my cacoethes.
(hush hush don’t move) fingertips tracing my chaccone deeper into your skin.
I dismantle you madly, instinctively.
Leaving in the morning, albeit too silently yet fervently.
Overwhelmed, I go in search of rain.
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