My thoughts have always be dark, twisted, sinful and erotic,
But that’s what makes the best story my dear, and mine and yours is so beautifully
written in my head,
That sometimes I forgot there are boundaries we need to remember,
Things that are and aren’t appropriate for lovers like us,
But that is perhaps a story for another day, one filled with reality and reminders
But for now, here are the thoughts of us that have never been made into reality,
Well, at least, not yet. I know we both feel the temptation,
I know I sound crazy, how can I cling to something that never was?
How can I crave the touch of someone I’ve never had, never felt in the ways the count?
The answer is simple; hope is such a dangerous thing my love, and my heart knows the dangerous of a temptation all too well.
So let us get back to this story of you, and me,
Where we can be what is felt, what is wanted and what is yearned for.
In my head, our joining is hot and heavy, filled with aggression and sighs of longing,
The kind of sex that makes me forget that I shouldn’t be wanting it,
The kind that has me blushing long after the tiresome deed is done.
In my head, it all plays off the way I need it,
Hot, heavy and leaving me grasping for the air I know I need to breathe,
Your hands on my thighs, gripping hard, leaving behind tiny bruises,
Because you love seeing your mark on my skin in ways that excite you,
But that’s nothing compared to the way you sigh in my ear,
The whimpers of “fuck” that dance along my skin; the whispers of yes and more, dear god do that again,
But the spell is broken right before I catch that mass of relief, the right moment, the thing I need the most from you.
So the fantasy plays on and on and on,
Always changing, yet the same desires remain.
Oh and I am an expert of wanting the things I can’t have,
That’s what’s makes the game all the more exciting.
And I’m left wishing the fantasy were made into a reality,
But that dream is for the wishful thinkers and those willing to ruin the good they’ve found.
So wish me luck, but I’ve never been the type for wishful thinking,
And I’ll hold onto the fabricated memory of the things your body could do to me,
Just bound the reach of the boundaries for lovers like us.