I tried to fit you in to pretty rhymes and clever metaphors, but the thought of your lips on her perfectly sculptured thighs stopped me dead in my tracks. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was jealous of. Was it her legs along with her black stilettos wrapped around your neck or was it the way you sucked the red lipstick off her bottom lip?
I tried to fit you in to the spaces of my overactive thoughts and missing puzzle pieces of my scattered heart, but I couldn’t get the idea of you fitting your parts in her void.
I tried to understand the corners of your odd smile and the carved lines on your forehead when you frowned, but instead you were too busy drawing a map on her neck with your tongue and hearts along her back.
I’m running out of words to say and love’s floating away.