I dreamed of true love, and wondered if I would ever get some.
He confuses me, frightens me, and excites me.
Hurt and lust are so deeply entwined its amazing that the two are even given separate names. When I look at him, I feel shame and heat and it thrills me. It stretches my narrow vision. With him, there is no perfection, there are only flaws. But, but oh how the wrong things are so very perfect.
I have too many words to say all of what he is.
J.M
He's a strawberry, moist and fragile. I love the way he smells and whines and laughs.
Fuck, is there such a thing as love? I never believed so before. When he calls my name, I feel all what I had built myself up to be, melt. I slide and fall, willingly. He adores me, I can tell. I love being worshipped but I love loving him more.
I don't have enough words to say of what he is.
C.M.M