I don’t just want to take your breath away. I want to rip it from your mouth and keep it locked away between my teeth. You can only have it back if you kiss me again.
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Literary Sexts
You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.
You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.
I don’t just want to take your breath away. I want to rip it from your mouth and keep it locked away between my teeth. You can only have it back if you kiss me again.
When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.
You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.
I have been thinking of how I want to be touched by you, with hands that will play me like piano keys, with fingers that will make a symphony out of me.
Mark me like a passage from your favorite book, then open me there again and again.
The gentle friction of your hand on my thigh is enough to strike a match inside me. I lean into your lips and the fire blossoms and spreads.
I have been thinking of how I want to be touched by you, with hands that will play me like piano keys, with fingers that will make a symphony out of me.
Your hands unzip me one breath at a time; there is not room beneath my skin for all of you and I spill over the edges with a sigh.
I taste the good and bad in you and want them both.
You, with your urge to fuck in a church– and me, with my want to mark your body with my bite… Some might find us monsterous.
Your name, a game I play, doesn’t echo as much as it beats, some deep bass line emerges from the background and hooks me into humming.
My hands are nomads, my dear desert. May they never find rest.
Poetry is the way I fuck you when you’re gone.