I thought you were engaged with my mind. Then I realized you were fiancé to my thighs and Beyonce has nothing on this single lady.
Keeping me, steeping me and I am exposing myself so that you may fit yourself against the plushness of my vulnerability.
Soft spoken words luring me to the trap of your mystery. I question to satisfy my curiosity and yet I find that you are not satisfying to me.
Wide the fuck open and I'll bring the thread to mend my head draping it from one side to the other drooping and draping unable to pick up the slack
And at this rate my heart will be beating against these heart strings. Wonder when it will be that I learn from these sorts of things.
And my wound will shrink from the thread mending my heart and head sensing the link and realizing that the physical is merely surfacing to make way for the transcendental that will never quite make it beyond the grips of the dismal. Her mass weighing heavy drifting here beneath the waters.
Bringing me to realize that I'm drowning in my need and instead of letting me breathe, you are simply smothering me with your uncertainty.
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