(no subject)
We communicate in messages, missed calls, and in altered states, stupefied and having all trust in. Trust in us, understanding, clarity if you will that only lasts one binge. A week high needs supplements to stay on top; we wonder how we fall out. I say “I love you” and you say “Me too”, while we call our lovers and play Janus. On our minds, bodies entwined, stealing the air when we say goodbye. Goodbye, good bye, I’ll be thinking of you. I’ve thought this through and what we would do.
See, it’s not like that at all, rhyming and flowing in perfect arrangement. I smile goofily over at you, wanting to just touch your smooth skin, teasing at the edge of your skirt. I want to climb on top of you and let you let me do what you please. To breath your breathe, to fuel my hearth, this imaginary state conjured only in my head to make us hot and bothered. I want your legs wrapped around my exothermic thrust, desiring to whisper hushed-nothings, no longer sweet, in my ear. Lick my neck and pull me towards you; your noises escaping from those lips, rolling off a tongue and into my...my racing mind. I want to take hold of your hips and dip, dip into your inferno, too exhausted to catch your second wind. To go blank and all our feelings, nerves, pleasures between our legs, moaning to the pace of our orgasms.
But this would not happen. Anytime we get close, it is prevented at leg-staring goodbyes. I panic before mention. However, this is what we think, before summer’s end.
See, it’s not like that at all, rhyming and flowing in perfect arrangement. I smile goofily over at you, wanting to just touch your smooth skin, teasing at the edge of your skirt. I want to climb on top of you and let you let me do what you please. To breath your breathe, to fuel my hearth, this imaginary state conjured only in my head to make us hot and bothered. I want your legs wrapped around my exothermic thrust, desiring to whisper hushed-nothings, no longer sweet, in my ear. Lick my neck and pull me towards you; your noises escaping from those lips, rolling off a tongue and into my...my racing mind. I want to take hold of your hips and dip, dip into your inferno, too exhausted to catch your second wind. To go blank and all our feelings, nerves, pleasures between our legs, moaning to the pace of our orgasms.
But this would not happen. Anytime we get close, it is prevented at leg-staring goodbyes. I panic before mention. However, this is what we think, before summer’s end.