unless

I know your going to break me apart
into a million little pieces,
and strip me of all I was,
So why do I feel like this?
My skin is thirsty for yours,
and I crave your whisper in my ear,
making chills rush down my spine.
Your hand slips from my loose grasp,
I can sense the pain your about to cause me,
like guilt settling in the pit of your stomach,
or a hundred knives,
razor sharp,
gliding over your back.
Yet as the red spills out,
all I can physically feel is the inevitable attraction,
pulling me closer,
allowing me to drown in your pale eyes,
allowing your body to push me deeper.
This thirst will never quench
unless I get hurt.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed