Poetry (words)

Control

You know how good it gets and how powerful it can feel. It’s more than a weakness, it’s my Achilles heel. 

I’m not immune to hunger she’s the tempest in my bed. I’ll lie here and think of you,  hands tied above your head. 

It’s the way you say my name when my hands devour your soul. It’s the way you bite your lip when I’m in control.

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s