"Ideas can sometimes be the most masochistic drug. Pardon me of this illusion: I am getting high on the idea of you while I’m here laying in bed. The sheets are lose for whirlwind access and you don’t have to look twice, keep your gaze on me because I am indeed bare. I lost myself the moment I knew how beautiful you were and until I realize that I really can’t have you, I will remain raw and vulnerable, soul seeking its mate. I have been clothed both cheap and pricey, but I only want you to strip me down to my birth givens. Just give me a hit or two to warm me from lips to chest to toes until I find a tangible idea. For now, this idea of you must stay and have its way."

— scatterbrained thoughts, 21

posted 1 year ago