His fingertips controlled
not only my heart but my mind as well.
He asked me to cry him a river
yet I cried an ocean.
He bit me with those teeth,
like a vampire lusting for blood.
I always wanted to give him
more than he thought I had the potential to.
It wasn’t the person who I was that he saw,
it was the heights I could reach up to.
He hit me, but I stood my ground,
loving him more than I ever loved myself.
His fingertips ran over places,
often those that I’d want ‘the one’ to run over parts of me.
Was I too desperate? Not that I know of.
I was lonely, hurt, empty, yet a miserable chaos of beautiful.
His lips met mine so hard, I’d feel the flavor
of tangerine watering my taste buds.
It was not his mouth but his eyes that demanded the dark,
and the sun would go down.
He’d treat me like a queen treats a king.
The oil to my rusted heart.
It was his rhythm of breath
that undressed me beautifully.
In bed, our body parts spoke of love.
The next moment, his face spoke of lust,
This post was submitted by Shefali Yadav.