I like the way you taste on my lips. I like how the moment it does, shivers go through my spine and the hair at the back of my neck rises. I love how only you can do that to me. I like how fruity you taste sometimes. And the sting on my lips at your first taste is exciting and excruciating. It’s a dark desire that fills my thoughts and drives them over the edge. I like that you can be bought. I like that you have a strange yet wanted way of numbing my bones,of making my cheeks heat up and my lips cold. But most of all, I love that I can never have one fill of you. I’ll always want more of you.
Painted shadow Continue reading “Wine.”
I watched as those fingers slid over the white keys.then the black keys. and over the white keys again. over and over. I watched those fingers caress those keys, Feel them, Make love to them, as it poured out every bit of passion and love in to that tune. That one perfect tune. It was melodious.It was heavenly. It was uplifting. Like a choir of angels, standing at the pearly gates of heaven, waiting for you. Calling for you. I felt like that. Then the music stopped. And i fell back to earth. I came crashing back to the place where they banished me from.I fell and there was noone there. No dog on the street and no poor old man shivering in the cold at the corner of the street. Noone. Not a Godforsaken soul. Just me. Me in my peach gown flowing in the wind and the street lights flickering as a gentle breeze swept over me. The ends of my dress are torn now. Holes, scratches.Torn. I can hear the music again. It’s a soft breathless tone. Almost as if the pianist was whispering words to his lover’s ears. But he wasnt. it was just a tune. A tune pulled out of his mind. Pulled out of his soul. His tired, bruised soul. I stood there confused and awed. Hurt and loved. Mistaken and Withdrawn, wondering where i got my inspiration from. Now. Now i know.
It’s like warm water on a hot tiring day. Warm water at the nape of your neck. Cold water on that hot day as it seeps into your soul. Into your blood. It’s soothing. It’s comforting. It’s what we all crave for. It’s something missing. It’s something found.It’s something lost. It’s something new and worn out. It’s something to crave for. It’s something not worth dieing for. It’s something to love. and hate.It’s something. The song continues to play. and oh. How I wish, I were those keys and not something with a soul. Just something perched up on against the white wall. Something lifeless and loved. Something emotionless and bought. Waiting to be touched. To be caressed with passion. It’s something to lose.And it’s something to let your self completely drown over. It’s bliss. It’s a lie. To you. Not to me. Just to you.