bittersweet amour.

thirty.

I lust after the way you move.
so effortlessly, like your body was made to torture me.
every cell of my body, yearns to touch you.
to feel your soft skin, under my rough, calloused hands.
to make love to you, all day and all night.
people may think I am a saint, but you make me a sinner.
not that I'm complaining, but you just do.
the way you bat your eyelashes at me, the way you bite your lip at me, there's nothing more that I want to do than to make you mine.
in all ways and every way possible.
and darling, if that makes me a sinner, so be it.