The kissing. That's the part I miss.
The holding of my face in your rough palm, lips pressed to mine. Being able to feel you smirk when you hear me moan at the slightest touch of your tongue on my teeth, my teeth on your tongue.
When I kiss you I want it all, the shirts off, pants off kind of kiss. The one that makes me moan your name on the couch, in the car, in your room, in my room. I crave it all. Now. So where have you gone? When I crave you most.
Actually fuck you for all those times you've made me crave. I can't live a day, 1 day without you in my mind. The kissing in the car, the couch, your room or mine. That smirk I now hate because all it does is remind me of the times when your lips were on mine. How many others do you smirk for in the comfort of our spaces? Those spaces we called ours.
Fuck you for making my hands crave the belt on your jeans.
YOU ARE READING
Our minds at night
PoetryThe thoughts that go through our mind when we are alone at night. The thoughts that go through our mind when the person lying next to you is there just to mess up your sheets and fuck with your mind.
