How fucked am I when all I seem to do think about when we last fucked.
I miss the gentle carresses of your fingers, when they'd trail down my spine.
I miss the way you'd choke me with just the touch of your lips pressed against my throat.
I miss the way your eyes would twinkle when I uttered the quietest I love yous.
I miss the way you had me gasping for air when you drew circles around my heart.
I miss every time we touched.
But your lips became your hands closing around my throat.
Your fingers became nails that painfully dragged across my body.
Your eyes only daggers piercing my body.
Your touch now lethal.
But even then I still love you.
