Dulled Senses

You make me a bad writer.  My words are clunky and short.  They’re like stuttered reaches of my hand for your thighs.  You’re turning me into a carnal being, only interested in feasting on your flesh with my lips and tongue.  Come here, pretty.  I want to devour you.

It isn’t always like this.  When I’m remembering you it’s all about flowers and eternal beauty.  It’s about love and depth.  But when I can smell your lavender coconut shampoo and see the darkness painted along your eyes every coherent thought sinks.  The claws come out.  The teeth grow long and sharp.  That red cape never looked so good on you.

I get stupid around you.  My mind grows duller.  The tip to my pencil breaks and all I can think about is the way my hands need to hold you and my lips burn unless they’re kissing you.

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