Monday, December 12, 2005

Backwards

I keep going back,

back to his arms, to his chest, to his presence.

I keep going back, pretending to be loved, to be wanted, to be his.

I keep letting him into my heart, my mind, my body.

I keep letting him poke me, leave me, hurt me.



I don't understand what it is that keeps me going back.

Yes, there is stimulating conversation;

Yes, there are loads of excitement;

Yes, the sex is incredible, supersexual.



But are these things enough to keep me by his side?

By his side though he doesn't give a damn?

By his side though he is merely using me?

By his side though he calls her his woman?


Of course not, but I keep going back

Back to his presence, his embrace, his bed.

I keep letting him stimulate my mind, arouse my body, and leave me empty.

All just to complain, to cry, to go back.
Posted by Nik :: 1:29 PM :: links to this post 0 comments

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