“I love you”
That’s what they all say….that’s what they have all said. Every. Last. One. Of. Them. And not to say, it makes me feel good. Another part of me wants to scream. Gouge my eyes and the very essence that these lovers have with me. Flattery can only go so far before you start to reconsider your self worth. This new one has particularly thrown a curve ball of some sort. Now, love itself is a never ending game of ups and downs, twist and turns but this particular method of ride was foreign.
Another meaningless thing, yet has me reconsidering possibilities of potential happiness. A everlasting forever type of effect that has my logic clouded. Like a child,waiting for her father to return from war, the very anticipation of the future is in view. You dont feel like you’re the only “old maid” because of all of your friends are taking the next steps of life with matrony and motherhood. Now, you, your self, just want a taste of that thrill. Or projected excitement of adulthood.
I, however, linger in the rhlem of one night thrills and orgasms. Empty promises whispered into the night while he thrust himself into me. Conforming in positions and exploration of the sexual jungle in which I am a prowless. A lust predator, waiting for the next soul for me to ravish; leaving nothing but memories while I stay starved. Parshed and anticipating the next. Having the option of which lover to devour.
If echoed on a continuous repeat, it drives you mad. Clawing at the very inside that leaves you inhibitions to the wind. Manifesting to this idea of that the very possibility of a relationship is ablicable. Whereas, in reality, it is not. It can never be. A lion does not curl up with its carcass after a meal. In order for one to have the mentality such as this, it causes disconsern. Questioning whether its delusion or actuality. The very thing I keep out is the very thing that I want,in? It leaves the very sour taste in my mouth that gargle can’t erase the fact that I had told myself what it is, numerous times. To question the obvious is stupidity.
“I love you”…
Yeah, I know…as much as I try to convince myself.
” I love you “
Sure…only moments of time does that very feeling ignite…or a imitation of lust in which can’t be despihered during sex. Panting…wincing…crying out in sheer bliss. The fire that continues to dance on each nerve ending with ever touch… Caress. To say I do not love that would be a lie within itself, but the truth is much more painful…much more darker than the beautiful lie. Dwell in the falsehood that seconds create only leavesthe want more. To take the very nature that drives desire and become a succubus. With a sheer glance, the engery is overwhelming. Confusing that with the emotion of love, leaves the devilish side in which the act of sex has become.
“I love you”
“I promised I’ll be loyal to you”
“I wanna show you how much you mean to me”
“I have fallen in love”
“You my girl?”