"Today I fell in love with your hand, your veins, the curves it makes when it reaches your nails. I fell in love with how you move your fingers, and how your big round puppy eyes, with that always lost look, try to watch every move. I fell in love with every part of your face, and your outstanding ears, which make you even more genuine than you really are. I love the wave on the back of your nose. Your thin, red lips, wet because you love to play around with your tongue, which is extremely intriguing with such a face like yours. I also fell in love with the way your loose shirt hangs down on your shoulders, and the unsteady way you lift your legs when you walk. I love how you sometimes have these over thinking moments, and you’re a bit nervous, and you rub your hands on your thighs not knowing how fascinated I am with you. I love that slight, half-smirk smile in the corner of your lips, with eyes full of pride and excitement when you succeed in something. I seek for your attention, hoping that when your eyes wander around the room, they may stick on me and you think about me, or just see me. At least, then, I’m in your mind … the most beautiful place. Silly of me that I hope that you just maybe could notice things like I do about you, on me. Just maybe you’re falling for someone so deep that you know you can never get up, or even want to."
— Elay Neal Moses (via coffeeqveen)
(Source: coachela, via anaphrodisia)
"I masturbated 4 times today.
Is it wrong that I think about fucking
you all the time?
I mean, Jesus, 4 times in one day?
In my head, I have your body down
to a science.
I know how to make you beg and I know
where to put my hands.
We touch each other like piano keys
and it is beautiful, the way we sing.
Maybe there are some things you
just shouldn’t say out loud.
Maybe that way you never have to
apologize for them.
It’s Wednesday and I am out of my mind.
I am counting the tiles on the kitchen
floor just for some peace.
1, 2, 3, we don’t even make it to the bed, 4, 5, 6, I bite your neck and draw blood, 7, 8.
My mom asks me what I am thinking
about and I want to throw up.
I keep counting.
Want is an ache that won’t leave me be,
even when I sleep.
On Thanksgiving, I am going
to lick the cranberry sauce off of
my fingers and wish it was you."
— Want | Caitlyn Siehl (via luv-bunny)