I never told you this. But being with you were the only moments I ever truly felt beautiful.
It wasn’t love, I don’t know what it was, but there was a feeling. Some kind of falling. Some kind of sinking.
I sometimes wish I could be more like water. How much peace must there be in being swallowed by something other than your own being, by the ocean, to be soaked up by the earth, evaporated from the ground.
I, or anyone I hold dear, could literally have a brain aneurysm at any moment.
Smile. Every day, smile. Even when it hurts. Smile. When they ask you what’s wrong tell them you’re fine.
I’d crawl naked on all fours to him and kneel at his feet when he wanted me to “come here.” I’d play submissive. I’d play dominant to fulfill other cravings. I’d play canvas, and I’d let his belt be the brush he used to fervently stroke each crimson shade with.
You are the reason why your life isn’t happier.
Maybe I only loved you because you made me feel alive. Maybe you only ever made me feel alive with your touch.
He looks at you the way you subconsciously have always wanted him to, the way he has in one, two, three or seven dreams.
You look at me and it’s something reminiscent of meteorites. There’s a swelling in my chest, a heady fire mixing in my veins.