Remember the last night we lay together on your bed. That bed that smelled of sweat and everything else that our bodies are capable of discharging. I kept kissing your nape and the curly stray hair on it while you led my hands between your legs- controlling, commanding, restricting. There were only us and your soft moans as you struggled to gasp for air. When all the preliminaries have been played, I whispered “I love you” as close to your ear, then I kissed it. I know how you hate the sound of lips parting so close to your ear so I tried to kiss you as silently as I could. I tried to kiss you on your lips but you pushed me away and sat up. You looked at me, grabbed the sheet, covered yourself with it, and stood up. Everything happened fast. “We are not in love; we are just infatuated with the situation,” you said. Then you left. We never came.
- February 16 2013 | - Read More →