v u l v a l i c i o u s
I have thought of having sex with someone that you hate, only so that I can tell you and watch your face twist with uncomfortable anger.
I have thought about lying, not having sex with that person you hate, but then telling you I did. And then telling you I didn't.
I think about you, I think about holding myself over you and watching your eyes. I hold you down, press my face to your face. I can't tell if you'd like it or not.
I know I can't give you what I think I might be promising to, and I don't think I feel guilty for it.
I can't keep my attention on you because sometimes your very presence makes me squirm. Your constant twitching and moving makes me uncomfortable. I have to look away.
I am disgusted.
I hate your insanity. I hate that you try to function with it. I want to medicate you. Or rather, I want you to medicate yourself.
I will never be able to be your friend after what you did, though I will not ever tell you what I am doing about it. I am slowly but surely going to pull every piece of you from my life until we talk only in passing, in memory, in hollow ways that will fulfill you but would kill me if I kept caring about you.
I still want to kiss you. I never stopped wanting to kiss you.
Your smell is intoxicating. I break that word apart and think about toxicity and think yes, yes, you are a poison and if I could drink you I would.