You’d probably never read this. But I write it anyway. I just can’t get you out of mind. Always and forever you’re running in circles around me, so close to me. I can smell you on everything around me. Everything reminds me of you. But none so much like the bed.nextDo you remember that bed? I do. The soft mattress with a thousand pillows surround. The smooth, cool sheets beneath us. Your legs wrapped around me, your hot breath against my neck. My hands touching the smooth skin of your back. Tiny droplets of sweat collecting at your spine.
I remember watching you as you lie back against the pillows. Eyes closed, slowly breathing though your lips. Ah, those sweet lips. The gates to the velvet pink of my favor. How I could taste you for hours. Can you feel me now? I’m tracing up your hip with my tongue. The faint taste of salt from your sweat, I’m savoring you.
Do you remember my hands? Cupping your breasts in them. The gentle poke of your nipple in my palm. The weight of them, I remember, never ending. Firm and soft at that exact same moment. How I could play in their valley for days, getting lost in the essence that was you.
Oh the inner thighs. My hips fit gently into them as your legs wrap around me.
Do you remember that bed? What happened on it? Or do you choose to ignore my love for you? Which is it? Are you even listening? Can you hear me calling for you?
Of course you can’t. You won’t feel the love, will you? All you remember is knife slicing into your precious love. The sting shooting through your body, your cries of pain. The black bruises that followed the next morning.
Do you remember the feeling of my teeth digging into your thighs? The fist pounding into your face, the hot tears falling from that beautiful face.
The broken bottles, the metal coat hanger. The rapes. The hurt.
You fucking bitch.