You are Pressing Me into the Wall
My skin was on fire everywhere we seemed to ever had touched each other.
Inside of me heat raged on in a war against the chills he sent spiraling down my spine; there I was, trapped.
Between a brick wall and the one man I had fought so relentlessly to keep distance from,
between a rock and a hard place.
All of him was long and so perfectly shaped,
the arms keeping me there thick and I remember how rough they feel no matter how long it's been since I've felt them.
In fact, I remembered all of him.
There was no forgetting this man, mine, even when I led myself to believe so many weeks ago that he no longer was.
That I didn't want him, or need him.
That he was the poison in every drink that I sipped and every hangover I had.
His eyes are dark blue in the dark, even.
Like they glow, and I look into them and can't seem to look away.
His eyes are a television screen that replay to me everything between us,
all of the times I had swept away out my bedroom window and
every single time we had fucked in the back seat of his car.
It reminds me time and time again the way his mouth feels when he kisses me hard,
and how sore my face is after the scratching of his stubble, but I do not need to be reminded;
I remember.
The soreness was one of the somethings I missed.
The prickling of his kisses when his face brushed against mine,
it drove me crazy.
To grab hard onto him, to have him grab right back onto me just as hard.
It put me on edge to think of him in between my legs again at last,
all the want I had ever experienced for him towered over me like a single giant wave.
It would hit at any moment and I would have my break down and he would have me, again.
He stares down at me and he's smirking like he does, like a monster over his prey;
I'm not afraid, but I can't move.
He's speaking but there's static in my ears and I can't hear him clearly enough to understand.
I want him to stop talking, put those hands all over me again.
I want it.
Like holding your breath for too long,
I need it.
Inside of me heat raged on in a war against the chills he sent spiraling down my spine; there I was, trapped.
Between a brick wall and the one man I had fought so relentlessly to keep distance from,
between a rock and a hard place.
All of him was long and so perfectly shaped,
the arms keeping me there thick and I remember how rough they feel no matter how long it's been since I've felt them.
In fact, I remembered all of him.
There was no forgetting this man, mine, even when I led myself to believe so many weeks ago that he no longer was.
That I didn't want him, or need him.
That he was the poison in every drink that I sipped and every hangover I had.
His eyes are dark blue in the dark, even.
Like they glow, and I look into them and can't seem to look away.
His eyes are a television screen that replay to me everything between us,
all of the times I had swept away out my bedroom window and
every single time we had fucked in the back seat of his car.
It reminds me time and time again the way his mouth feels when he kisses me hard,
and how sore my face is after the scratching of his stubble, but I do not need to be reminded;
I remember.
The soreness was one of the somethings I missed.
The prickling of his kisses when his face brushed against mine,
it drove me crazy.
To grab hard onto him, to have him grab right back onto me just as hard.
It put me on edge to think of him in between my legs again at last,
all the want I had ever experienced for him towered over me like a single giant wave.
It would hit at any moment and I would have my break down and he would have me, again.
He stares down at me and he's smirking like he does, like a monster over his prey;
I'm not afraid, but I can't move.
He's speaking but there's static in my ears and I can't hear him clearly enough to understand.
I want him to stop talking, put those hands all over me again.
I want it.
Like holding your breath for too long,
I need it.