literature

friends.

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Literature Text

i'm not supposed to be in love with you.
just being friends is risky buisness
and we promised, i promised
"no strings attatched."

why then, when i was sleeping,
did you sow all 10 of my fingers to yours,
the same with out toes?
why did you clamp your lips over mine,
engulfing them in a passive burst of passion?
why did you whisper "i love you" breathily
in betweem long, sweaty kisses
and sharp inhalations,
your teeth gnawing
secret confirmations of your love
into mine?

were you simply choking on your testosterone?
were you overflowing with burning blood?
is that why you let it
run all down my spine,
my thighs?
i watch, motionless,
as it pools on the floor.
i consider drowning in it.

i'm searching for the emotion rumored
to be lodged in your esophagus.
all i've found are empty words
sentences abandoned before
they escaped your mouth
and became dangerous.
we're both so afraid
to hurt each other,
so we spend too much time
overthinking,
and then we don't think at all.

but we feel,
and that's scary.
peculiar.
unfamiliar.
together we are
greater than we
ever were
alone.
us > you & I

i could ask for more,
but i'm sick of depending on others.
in due time
i will run, and drag you close behind me
and you will have no option
outside of falling in love
with me.
it ends there
© 2012 - 2024 artistic-foolishness
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