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Your soft kisses remain etched upon my psyche from the engagement that emerged then, healing the wounds that were transferred epigenetically, and we share the same vice as passion burns bone deep, searing the soul.

Heat to heat, drawing on one’s breath for sustenance, navel to spine as we grind harder & deeper, and when I can’t sleep I wonder where you are, and what you’re doing and the ache in my cunt lingers.

Deep down, you want me to beg you as you grip me by the throat whilst you make me tremble all over your cock as you steal my breath, unaware that you are my breath of life, irrespective of the peripheral shackles that taunt you for making better choices.

You want me to beg you but I won’t because I’m better than that, I don’t need to harness coercive tactics and throw a tantrum in an attempt to control your emotions as I flow like a river to the sea as vast as that can be, and you’re unable to see what you’ve always meant to me.

Hmm. Maybe if I sit on your face, you might just stay grounded, instead of running back to things that signify all things dysfunctional, and sometimes goodbye is the hardest thing to say whilst cradling those who have nothing worthy to offer but spoilt & rotten fruit.

When you’re ready to adult, look me up.