Dancing to the Rhythm of His Fists

Photo credit: Sevenheads (Pixabay)

Alright, this is how it works…

I will start by spotting you, then I will lure you into my chambers. I will have you, I will make you think I’m having only you.

I will make sure I trap you so gently in my embrace. You will long for nobody’s touch but mine.

I will make every word that falls from my lips sound like honey. You will hold on to my words like you do to me when we share our heavily defiled bed.

You will place your pure heart in my care and I will soil it with my heavily filtered love, drenched with memoirs of drunken fornication with the locals at my favorite bar.

My cigarette-sin stained lips will smother yours with kisses, heavy with promise of the happy ending your dreams haunt you with.

Your friends will take it upon themselves to be the meteorologists of our love. Warning you of the storm’s coming ahead and the loneliness you will endure as I rain on you with my form of love, fists and unpassionate love making. Showering you with colorful curses as you wash my presence off your body.

I will give you a few hours to collect yourself as I purchase gifts I know will make your heart melt. That makeup you’ve been wanting? I will get you that to cover the evidence of my knuckles on your precious face.

I will buy you a ruby red bag to match with the red lipstick covering the split you endured in last night’s passion. My version of passion. You will smile and forgive me.

I’ll make sure you’re always thinking about me, only me. Because you are mine. And you think I need to be loved. So I feel nothing more but deserving of your love because we are meant to be. And you, are mine alone. I feel it so, and nothing more.