You grab me by the scruff of my neck and throw me to the floor.
You tear at my skin, the salt of your sweat burning-
searing through the flesh that threatens to no longer hold me together.
The taste of you. Burns the most pleasurable burn- degree after degree I’ll suffer- until I’m no longer able to take it all.
To love you is to not know where we stand.To take the doubt and mould it into these hopeful, resentful, desperate and pathetic musings of what was and the possible reality that it will never be.
To love you- I don’t know where I stand.