i want more.
less than he's offering but more than his giving.
much more.
it's all so routine. and when its not someone's falling asleep. and when he's not it's the ps. and when t's not it's work. and when it's not i'mnot araound. and when i'm not he's not around. and when we are it's one and the other. and then he's asleep. and when he wakes he's playing grand theft auto. and when he's not he's fixing the gen. and when it's on he's with the boys. and when they're gone he has work. and when he's of i'm not there. and i hate it.and when it's all there, all what i want, it's non of what i want.
i want more.
less sandpaper.
less tissue.
less calculation.
less analytic.
no questions.
just me.
just us.
just feelings.
no talk.
no questions, because half the time i don't know what i want.
the other half, i don't know how to say what i want.
and you know this.
but with you it's all a formula.
touch hand + kiss mouth = sensation
caress back + kiss mouth twice = double senstion
i can hear you counting.
i can hear you calculating.
i can sense you measuring.
no talk. you kill it with talk.
you need to make me not think.
i need to lose myself to be myself.
dont tell me what i know
and dont ask me what i dont.
all talk.
i'm over it.
now do something all bloody ready.
it's two things now - his mouth, and him. and to think that wasn't even an option at some point.