She kept my dreams inside her bra. Her low slung necklines put me in anxiety, this burning desire to touch, to feel, to hold my dreams in the palm of my hand again. What does it feel like to provoke, to torture, to tease, I wonder. Anger, pain, frustration, she would take them all out on me. She stands in the phone booth, caressing the flawless skin that peeked in between her clothes, it couldn't have been any more picture worthy. For what her shirt did not cover, I did so, with my guarding eyes. She smacks her lips several times as they settle, her frustration shows color in her cheeks, salmon. She screams, cherry red. I watch her take my hand, dipping her glossy nails into the flesh of my skin, the pain I devoured in. She sits me down and slowly navigates her hips around my crotch. I sit in silence for I am not worthy of this dashing young spirit that seeks my desire. She holds my dreams in the space between her left breast and her black bra, I remind myself. I watch in agony as she moves around me, waiting for me to succumb and melt in her touch. She whispers in my ear, she strokes my hair, she brushes her blue skirt in my face, she touches my right cheek. Oh, the touch, so smooth was her skin, so feather-like, her touch. This is nothing, but an infinite battle to recover my dreams, my soul, my thoughts, from a woman so exquisite, so physically refined, so elegant, so alluring and yet so, demented and disturbed. We make mistakes, we get punished. I lost control, I sold myself to a tortured soul.
Now playing: The Velvet Underground - Venus In Furs
via FoxyTunes
