[ This blog post is private ]

09/24/2014 07:55 PM 

...a kick to the head.


I know you could get used to this. My voice in the morning, so rough, and deep. A lethal injection, puncturing your veins and shooting you up full of falsity. I was here this morning, but often times, I'm already gone. Remember those times? Cold mornings when the sun is having its own hard ass time cresting the horizon; a golden line of morning to snort. But it's hope. Injected secretly into your heart. Exploding like an atom bomb. Searing your senses and blinding you from truths you should be remembering. It'll remind you, like a kick to the head when it happens again. Princess, babygirl, darlin`...they say, don't hate the player-hate the game. Well baby, I don't play games because I don't follow any rules; you know the problem with me. I'm infectious in all the wrong and right sorts of ways. I leave that sweet-whiskey scent on your pillow and the correct sort of bruises on your skin and soul that you aren't afraid to hide from friends. I'm like a storm baby; the one you don't see coming-then it's there, at your front door. In your home. In your bedroom. In your mind. Sweeps you away. Pelting droplets; rain or sweat-who knows. With promises of better, clearer skies-but you know the troubles these patches of dark clouds will cause you..

Do you call it burning passion? Do you call it just a man's way of lovin`? What excuses do you give me once I'm gone? I don't hold your hand; I hold you by the throat and bite your shoulder and tell you to groan my name. I don't ask you out to dinner; I say, lets go grab a bite to eat. Then your stilettos are scuffing the wall, that I have you pinned against. My name isn't tattooed on your skin; it's tattooed into your very mind, by a tiny burning needle, it has etched every single letter, right along the side of your beating heart where no one really bothers to look, but its' there-even if you try to deny it, baby.

Like a kick to the head; you'll remember. After a while, you'll forget, or pretend to forget...you'll snort me like another line; but baby how many have you already done? Drink in my poison and wipe your pretty lips and ask for a double. You know how I love it when you try to keep up. Even though all I want to do is keep you down. Pinned. Because we both know how good that looks when the sheets are a mess and I'm stealing your breath like a bastard thief in the night along with any proper decency left that you possess. Acting like a good girl, but baby you know you want to be that bad girl that tames my ways.

I'm not an easy man. You know this, I know this. But we both keep returning to this, don't we?

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