greyblus

[greyblus]

Fixated on the high of you. Screaming silenced with slow captures of angles I never caught, playing side by side with beautiful moments I can't remember from my eyes but what I imagined it must've looked like from the eyes of a third party with a gift for creating in the midst of nothing. What haunts me was never there, but the feeling was. Like when you see people shooting heroin in movies. Like a sad art, a poetic injustice placed on someone who was or could be someone, something. When in reality its just a junkie, getting high, in awkward silence, in some beat down old car in the middle of no where, and all you can do is wonder if that will be the last thing you see, some junkie.

I see something between us that I make up in my head. Sure I feel the passion. But were those moments ever there? Was it awkward silence when I thought I was taking you in. Were you worried by the thought of me being the last person you see. A nobody. A junkie high off of you. You just a passenger.

[greyblus]

Today someone else is awake in place. Stronger. More confident. Relax. Let me take the wheel.

[greyblus]

You don't have to trust me. But we can fuck like you do. The taste of you on my tongue. The feeling of your pussy lips bouncing back against my lips. Sinfully delight, sincerely my favorite drug.

[greyblus]

Goodnight. I know you hate it. But id kiss you on the forehead as you fall into sleep.

[greyblus]

Lonely nights haunted by the feel of you. This is my hell, you my torturer, you, my air.