I need you to look at me,
like you look at her.
I need you to savor my taste in your mouth,
don't wash it down with water.
I need you to slam me against the walls,
and whisper in my ear.
Let's platonically go to see a movie,
and date. Platonically.
I want you to fall in love with me,
exactly how I fell in love with you.
I want you to grab my face and kiss me,
and tell me I'm the world to you.
Because you are the world to me,
I think.
You're all I think about,
horribly.
I want us to fuck each other's brains out,
or better yet, make love.
It was you who said that,
making love is more intimate.
I want us to be so intimate,
the world disappears from under us.
I want you to look at me,
and feel heart palpitations.
I want you,
I need that.
I want us to fuck,
to make love.
In exclamation points.
YOU ARE READING
Noyadé
ŞiirA series of small works: finished works and unfinished scraps and sober thoughts and inebriated words and drunk minds and me. All of me in here.
