Thank you John maus, “Honey”, & obsession

The moments we were alone were the ones that were most tumultuous. Every rogue thought accompanied by an antecedently louder heart thump. A gravitational force dwelled between us.

I would close my legs and hope he pried them open with his eyes. Hide my face but want his hand caressing it. I’d long for it to slither to my neck, surrendering its poisedness (?) to his grip. Particles of silk slipping through thick pillars. Palmed by blistered palms, scarred by an inability to claim what is tangible, and what is his: Me.

Tangibly held is my desire for him. A cocoon of arousal perpetuated by his unknowing and inability to cater to my incessant needs. 

Adulterous is our language. Socially, morally, and religiously. I am Christian and He is my true religion But he is Buddhist and far away. 

Unrelenting is my pleasure. It plasters and seeps itself into avenues that pave no path for it

But it leaks 

For him,

For my pleasure,

I leak