Women who want to say things until their hearts and breath are arrested by one flash of beautiful eyes, one room brightening smile, one set of kind words.
I've been there.
Boy, have I been there.
So desperately gone that forgiveness of factual manipulation comes before he even knows I've been made aware of it.
So completely enamoured with a shining set of eyes, and the soft parting of full, round lips that it's easy to believe. Even if the belief ebbs in his absence.
So fully in need of kind words, of sexual validation that morals almost become malleable.
So fascinated by mind and soul that I'll take anything offered, just to be close to him.
And so crushed when each and every one of these relationships or non-relationships falls to it's inevitable demise. So discouraged to be reminded that I knew I didn't measure up. I knew it could never work. I knew I was trading a moment of oblivious pleasure for a tiny shard of my own self worth.
I traded that self worth willingly. Gave it away to the highest bidder for the intoxication of exploration, of doors opened and paths explored. For the heady feeling of acceptance and belonging. For the privilege of my skin against his, my lips on his cock, my hands on his body and the blood coursing through my veins, charged with sexual hormones.
Sometimes I dream of the taste of your skin.
