This style generally bugs me, but sometimes it's for the best.

[charlemoins]

muse

looking forward to the red, hair-red, fur beneath my fingers

and I'll hold him longer than I should
but I've missed him more than I should

more than I missed the sexy one
more than I missed the smart one
more than I missed the one whose blood runs in my veins

more than the one I truly do love

I've missed him.
The thrill that his burning brings
the words then run from me when I try to drop them into my pages
slide easily into sentences when he's around
in my sight
in my thoughts

the easy kindness
the lateral devotion

and now, speaking just to you:

the way i want to be
on my knees
ripping past your carefully washed t-shirts
with my angry teeth
as you hold me back
with gentle hands

and tell me that it's not what i need