With his hands around my throat I can momentarily forget about your touch,
You slip from my mind like the breath from my burning lungs,
His frightening eyes help me focus on a face that isn't yours, centering me to a moment free of your voice.
You are the only thing standing between us,
You are the one driving me into his arms.
The stab of pain, the surge of pleasure, both are the work of his hands,
Cast away from all but this, I seek out this regret and remorse to feel, to belong.
My heart, beating out of rhythm and far too fast, responds to the rough handling his passion imbues.
You are the only thing standing between us,
You are the one driving me into his arms.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment