Desire is a disease.
It's only just a crush, it'll go away
It's just like all the others it'll go away
Or maybe this is danger and you just don't know
You pray it all away but it continues to grow
I want to hold you close
Skin pressed against me tight
Lie still, and close your eyes girl
So lovely, it feels so right
I want to hold you close
Soft breasts, beating heart
As I whisper in your ear
I want to fucking tear you apart
I've decided, after years of playing tag with with hearts, that people don't want to be desired as much as they think they do. There's such a rare occasion where two people are in the throes of desire with each other, it's usually a back and forth. There's always the one chasing down their object of lust, and the other is running away... sometimes getting close enough where you can pretend (believe, hope) you're about to catch them, and then speeding away again, making your game all the more difficult and entertaining(?) (I've always disliked tag, so I don't find chasing someone very entertaining, just a breathless mad dash I want to be out of. I'd rather sit on the sidelines than end up keeled over and gasping for air). It's not a conscious thing, at least in my case, when I've been the one being chased, but I'm beginning to remember the desperation of grazing something (almost, barely) with your fingertips and having it pull away again, and it can feel deliberate.
Moral of the story is that desire is a waste of human emotion and leads to horrible things like obesity and heartbreak.
This message has been brought to you by 7 years of dating (and out of those 7 years, only 4 (or so, that I remember) times have I been the gasping, out of breath desirer (desirer??), which should make the four of you feel fucking amazing and special, except that I won't name names, and let me tell you it's few and far between. Not to mention I was probably a pain in the ass, so maybe the rest of you should thank your lucky stars). Anyway, brought to you by 7 years of dating, parenthesis, and a really amazing article in O magazine. (stfu, I'm really like 40 years old in this brain).
It's just like all the others it'll go away
Or maybe this is danger and you just don't know
You pray it all away but it continues to grow
I want to hold you close
Skin pressed against me tight
Lie still, and close your eyes girl
So lovely, it feels so right
I want to hold you close
Soft breasts, beating heart
As I whisper in your ear
I want to fucking tear you apart
I've decided, after years of playing tag with with hearts, that people don't want to be desired as much as they think they do. There's such a rare occasion where two people are in the throes of desire with each other, it's usually a back and forth. There's always the one chasing down their object of lust, and the other is running away... sometimes getting close enough where you can pretend (believe, hope) you're about to catch them, and then speeding away again, making your game all the more difficult and entertaining(?) (I've always disliked tag, so I don't find chasing someone very entertaining, just a breathless mad dash I want to be out of. I'd rather sit on the sidelines than end up keeled over and gasping for air). It's not a conscious thing, at least in my case, when I've been the one being chased, but I'm beginning to remember the desperation of grazing something (almost, barely) with your fingertips and having it pull away again, and it can feel deliberate.
Moral of the story is that desire is a waste of human emotion and leads to horrible things like obesity and heartbreak.
This message has been brought to you by 7 years of dating (and out of those 7 years, only 4 (or so, that I remember) times have I been the gasping, out of breath desirer (desirer??), which should make the four of you feel fucking amazing and special, except that I won't name names, and let me tell you it's few and far between. Not to mention I was probably a pain in the ass, so maybe the rest of you should thank your lucky stars). Anyway, brought to you by 7 years of dating, parenthesis, and a really amazing article in O magazine. (stfu, I'm really like 40 years old in this brain).