You Don’t Know…

No slow motion.

It’s that revenge shit, where he tested this flexibility and made my walls remember him, because you didn’t.

It’s that hate passion, that raw fucking, where he didn’t even put his lips to mine but instead sucked on my neck to leave a reminder, to make you remember these lips are yours.

But you don’t know.  You don’t know.

It’s that mad fucking, that make-time-for-me-motherfucker fucking, that you’re-gonna-miss-your-boo-when-I-make-her-mine sex, the one you’ll wish you could get back fucking.

It’s that sad sex, the one that made me close my eyes tight and imagine you instead of him, the tears threatening a pool in my ears because you weren’t there, you weren’t here, you weren’t.

And my body knew it wasn’t you, even with my eyes forced shut, it wasn’t you because you didn’t feel right, it wasn’t your skin, your breath, your touch, your moans, your voice, it wasn’t your size inside, it wasn’t your love inside. 

But you don’t know.  You don’t know.

And I lay here spent, aching from his fucking, aching from his workout on me, hurting from this pain in my heart that’s torn.

All because you don’t know.

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Enamored…

When he laughs, my whole being feels.  It’s real laughter, no games, no pretense, no falsehood.  And I’m pleased.

When he touches me, my whole being trembles.  His touch reminds me I’m alive and awakens every sense.

And when he kisses me, I melt into him and I remember the first time we kissed and he melted into me then and I want to cry, tears of awesome joy and happiness and this, this lust, this inner peace is something, it’s all something, waiting to be explored.

And when he enters me, my God, how I want to give him all of me.  My body yields fully into him and I want to give him more and more and more.  And I let him take me and let him feel every last bit of my existence and I feel him inside and it’s right, it’s all right and I kiss his neck and run my nails along his back and kiss his shoulder to avoid screaming and this is love, this is love we’re making, it’s all love we’re making.  I’m totally and completely enamored by him.

He’s finishing my thoughts and completing my sentences and this is too soon, it’s too quick, it’s too much passion all at one time and I have no control, I can’t help it, I just want it, I want him, I want it all.

And when he says my name….

Nothing else matters.  Life is complete.  It’s all emotions rolled into one, my passion, my lust, my peace, my joy, my happiness and I just want to hold him and hear him again and feel him again and kiss him, my God, how I love his kisses and it’s complete.

I’m complete.

I just want to hear my name in his mouth again…

Till You’re Ready

You’re still here.  Not as much as before, but you’re here.

You pop in suddenly, like you want to remind me. 

But I don’t need reminders.  I remember you all on my own.

I remember the shape of your eyes, the hue of brown they were, how they shone when you looked at me.

Yes, your eyes shine. 

I remember the smile you didn’t really like, but I loved.  Love.  Still.

And your voice.  I remember it.  And your laugh.  To a tee, I remember.

And your feel.  I remember how you feel when I lay my head on your chest and your heart thumping in excitement or nervousness or whatever it is, but I feel it beating against me and I remember your back muscles and your arms, dear God, why do I remember it just like yesterday?

And then, I wonder if you’re loving, if you’re letting someone love you.  I wonder if you’re touching or who’s touching you.  I wonder who your heart beats for, who’s making your heart beat, who’s got you.

Sometimes, most times, when he’s deep in my walls and I’m closing my eyes and reaching, it’s you above me, you’re helping me reach, you’re helping me get it and get it and get it again.  And it’s your name in my head, your name I see in the darkness of my eyelids, your eyes in my memory, your mouth sucking all the life out of my soul, your teeth biting my lip, your tongue soothing that bite as you moan my name, over and over and over in pleasure.

And when he spills and I adjust my body to accept him, it’s you I’m accepting, you who’s spilling.  And I want to yell out, I want to make you hear me, make you feel me, make you more than just a damn memory.  I want you to feel it, I want you to hear it, I want you to remember.

These damn memories.

They’re here.  They’re not going away.

And I’ll wait.

Until you’re ready.  

For the next time you contact me.