Saturday, 9 January 2010

Been a While

I want to be your one that got away.

I want to be the girl you wake up in the middle of the night thinking about and sweating, missing me so hard you can taste it, taste me on your tongue, and you roll over to the woman in your bed and feel it like a knife in your throat that it's not me.

I want you to think of me in public places and have to swallow hard and dig your nails into your palms to make the thoughts go away.

I want to sneak into your mind unbidden when you hand is on your cock and you're all alone and you were thinking of someone else, something else, but suddenly it's me you're picturing.

I can see you there, one hand stroking your cock, the other sliding over the stubble on your face and head, rough and smooth, your hips twisting (that one bit of your body I can't get out of my head) your voice catching, yes, yes, there, that, and if I could see into your head I'd find myself staring back into my eyes.

I want you to whisper in my ear when we see each other that you miss me, you wish things could've been different, but it was the wrong place, wrong time, wrong whatever. But the right me.

Did you whisper my name when you came? Lick your fingers and smile?

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