I wonder if you think about me too.
Do you love me still?
What if I said I love you, too.
But I'll never come back to you.
You pushed me away, threw me out.
I can't return to you anymore.
All the lies and slander.
Your desperation.
Your infidelity.
So many good things, too many bad.
Sex.
So much sex.
Oral.
Anal.
Top.
Bottom.
Left.
Right.
Side.
Upfront.
Standing.
Sitting
Lying down.
Bending forward.
Bending back.
Bondage.
Submission.
Role-play.
Or plain vanilla sex.
A rush, everytime.
Do you remember the first million times we kissed? Under the moonlight, not a soul around.
One could make a movie out of our lives.
But so much violence, so much pain
I didn't mind how you'd handle my body.
Paint your pictures.
Mark your territory.
Kiss every inch of it.
It felt like you worshipped my body sometimes.
It felt like I knew every inch of your skin.
Strange familiarity.
You knew my kinks and I knew yours.
Our deepest fantasies, our biggest dreams.
Was it even real what we had or was it just the drugs?
It makes me sad to think that you'd probably try and recreate what we had with someone new, as will I someday.
It makes me lose hope in the concept of "love".
Maybe I wasn't all that fantastic.
Maybe we didn't really have a connection that goes beyond words, it was probably a little fantasy I had conjured in my head.
My heart refuses to let go, make room for someone new.
They won't fuck me like you did.
They won't fuck me like you do.
