in my head

When the room is empty of our stories, when the room is empty of our bullshit, I want nothing more than reality. I want to feel the anger inside my gut exploding down my legs. Make a puddle of my best, right on your stomach. Sitting on your crotch and staring at your devious face. I scream a fucking thousand thoughts in silence, all you hear is the occasional outside noise cutting through the windows and filling the room we are.

we are

a couple of accidents, of excuses we gave ourselves.

we are so wrong it doesn't feel right whatever it is that happens.

But we like it. it is not to say we don't get used to it. Like  your hands down my pants, pressing hard and trying hard, until we are both soaked in whatever happened to be my pleasure, to be my penitence too.

Here's a reason to sit on you again: get you moist as I please, then down on my knees, so I can lick it all off again.

in my head, it's the last time.

in my head

myriads

I was never sure what impact you'd have on me.
On my skin, you stayed for brief minutes, stained my face with your pleasure, bruised my lips. I was thirsty for you.

On the big corner sofa, so many words exchanged, so much time we spent just throwing memories, retelling stories that other ears wouldn't understand. I understand. your lips going down my legs, all I wanted.

Id crawl to you if I had to. Id throw myself in bed and retreat. Under a variety of moments, I stared at you, at your care. Maneuvering my body as if the most fragile piece you've ever handled. I still didn't understand by that point. Piercing you as I stared, I was somehow cursing you to be mine.

leaving was much of a rush, but of a rush also going through my head. my legs still shaking, my pleasure still running and sticking to the fresh clothes I've chosen to cover up any of my shame. I have no shame. urges come and go.

and when you are out there, in the field, hiding, running, hunting. I am also wandering, seeking the same. Our paths never to cross again even if all we have is this vivid impression that that would be possible.

I will be the taste you will crave half way through a random night hunting. the disappointment of never getting to see the same marks over each other again.