17

How dare you.

Damn you for loving me again.

All alone with myself

for so very long.

Living in my fantasies

surviving our past.

Then you yank me out

into the fresh air

and you shock me with it.

Warm and Sunny.

It feels chocolate~y smooth

touching me all over

even down in the tiny cracks

and potholes where I left myself.

To rot.

Damn you for holding my hand

pulling me free from the mire.

That sucking, stinking slop.

Pulling me to your heart.

Smashing your love

into my soul

stepping back

brushing the hair from my eyes

kissing my forehead…

Ohhh, sooooo tenderly…

Damn you for shoving me back in.

Holding me under~

and sprinting away…

(invisibly)

Again.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.