If poetry wasn't meant to be felt then why does every word hit your chest as if you re-lived a certain moment?
If poetry wasn't made to be relatable then why does every line feel so close as if you wrote the piece yourself?
We've all been there an...
I have tried so hard. Tried to stop thinking about the Softness of your lips grazing mine and setting me on fire. Tried to stop thinking about the Roughness of your hands holding the curves of my body like I was made to fit your hands only. Tried to stop thinking about your Tongue playfully teasing my skin and and tasting me in places only you know. I've tried to forget the way you made My body feel but every filthy thought Is like an addictive drug I know I can't have, And I'm sick of the frustration of wanting What I can't have.
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