I don’t care that you got into drugs for three months straight, or how much sleep you lost in that period. I don’t care that you went home and fucked that person and woke up at 6am hating everything about yourself, or that you smoked so much you sounded as though your lungs were giving out.
You’re not a bad person for the ways you tried to kill your sadness.
You’re just human, and being human means you need to survive and you do so whichever way you deem fit, fuck everyone else.
I want your fingers to go for a walk down to my thighs, and have your lips dance upon my neck.
Desire stirs in every part of my body when I think about you. I’m addicted.
But pull my hair and tell me how badly you want me, and I’ll do the same for you.
Baby this is real and you’re all I can think about at night, I need you in more ways than one.
The thought of your hips pressed into my hips sends shivers down my back.
Holy shit, I want to feel you on top of me, but also next to me when the sun peaks through the blinds.