. ° ∅ ° — The 𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐍 scares mebut not more than losing you. •★ ▫ ◎
Men think that all women want is a rich man with a handsome face.
Me?
I want a man who speaks in deep whispers, words full of sensual knowledge and wisdom dripping down like ichor, his words so compelling, like the pipe of the pied piper that I am willingly following him to my ruin.
He who treats me like glass, gentle caresses like he is afraid to break what is already damaged, maybe his sultry and soft touches might heal me after all.
He who notices when I have gone quiet. Reassurances on the tip of his tongue as it clashes with mine, and I am forced to gulp in the love.
He who carves his name with the caverns of his mouth, hands running across the places I think I am most unfitting. I can't help but whimper, only the moonlight has ever touched me so intimately, only themoonlight.
He who tells me every terriblething he did, iridescent tears flowing down his eyes, head rested on my chest. I would kiss his eyelids and tell him that he could be an absolute abomination, a beast and yet I would choose him.
I would never ask him stupid questions like, "would you still love me if I were a worm?" I think that he thought I was someone worth his love in this life is more than a blessing.
Even when he would talk to prettier women, I would turn my eye around, yes I am insecure, but I would trust him with my life, hand him my beating heart and give a dagger in his hand. Haven't I given too much already? Haven't people hurt me with things I gave them out of love already?
He who would be the Achilles to my Patroclus. The Hades to my Persephone; I am a pauper that nobody owns, yet he would shatter my soul even when all he could see were my bones.
Even though my self-destructive manias, he would stay. I would be a bit too tangled in his soul. Pardon me, it's my fault for getting attached too quickly.
Who am I writing about? No one particular in mind, perhaps someone in future who might find me worth investing in.
My young soul has killed her gods, got my demons on her knees, yet his smile would give me a victory higher than all of them.
Since my childhood I have had love fed to me on a spoon, there were times, however, I just somehow learnt to lick it off knives as well.
by me (from my Tumblr account, link in bio)
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