New York Kiss



The touch of sugar on your lips. The early days of love in the dying nights of winter. The girl of your dreams, clinging onto hardened bones so tight you can’t sleep. Hand jobs and bite marks. Open mouths and falling snow. There’s a song that plays as you pull back the covers while the sensation of falling never ends. A dress so pretty but it looks better on the bedroom floor. Breasts so tender yet they feel better in the grip of clenched hands. As above, see below. A figure on the brink of catastrophe as possession takes over. A body is just a body, but a soul is so much more. Eyes always eyes lulling you somewhere you thought you’d never return. Imagine loving someone only to hate them in the same breath. Imagine taking them places you know they’d do anything to escape from. Bring them to tears, then hold them tight and whisper sweet nothings down the nape of their neck. Let them build themselves around you, only to sweep the rug from under their feet. It’s not the act of a monster; it’s just called having a little fun. You did it to me, so I’ll do it to you. Whatever happens as time comes to pass, your safety is of no interest to me. The only thing that matters is how we fall. How the flames destroy our lives, and how much passion there is when we fuck next time around. Scorched earth and New York kiss. Subway isolation as my words cut away at your insides. A knife in your back, and a tongue between your legs. Others can take you, but they’ll never break your heart like I did. The summer a season for the aching, yet winter lovers always have a way of finding their way back home.

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