The room smells like rain.
I think that will always be a reminder of you
Impossibly green, like your eyes; but they are real
A reality painfully lacking
I had forgotten how beautiful they are until I saw them, liquid and alive
Wet, earthy; like magick
Of kitchen witchery and Druidry
Of things lost
There is no rain, and I am glad
It would be too much, rain.
Raindrops combined with the scent would remind of lazy days spent in bed.
Listening to rain and listening to the sounds of each other.
Fantasy never to be fulfilled. A roof and stars never to be seen.
The room smells like rain.
The hole you left is a living thing
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A vision conjured
Bound, aching. Needing.
Your trembling, dripping self
Desire personified.
Want radiates from your being.
The strain of bound muscle,
The whines of agony.
Joy in purest form at your suffering.
To see your strains as she is spread before you.
The longing to touch, corralled, by silks, gagged on object.
Purpose suited to desire.
To witness her destruction of self.
She lies open. Soft.
She tastes of desire.
Of strength and woman wild.
You are a river. Caged and weeping.
I taste coffee on her mouth, caught on a gasp.
Skin like orchids, scattered with life.
Nipple like the softest dream.
The taste of desire, heady, new; a flavor never dreamed.
Desire never before so dreamed.
Your struggles, an aphrodisiac, lightning through my soul.
Suffer. Ache. See.
It is glory.
Burn. Flame. Ignite.
Watch her crumble. See her fall, come apart.
Laid bare before me.
To lose myself in her wonder; to taste, to lose self, to feel nothing but shudder beneath me
Hear her breathe; you moan
Collapsing into her
Replete in her spending.
Your suffering.
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To have held love in your hands and have wasted it,
Something you can not understand until you have seen it
Will you weep, when you come to see what you have lost?
Will you realize what it is that once you held so carelessly?
The heart of mended pieces which shuffled to fit you in.
That tried to offer solace it had never been presented itself.
The world was open and given freely,
Yet was tossed aside and broken
How can it be repaired when you find it so much easier to throw it all behind you?