Morell

I sat with her  upon me, and let her  kiss me, saying nothing. She was ardor in flesh. She kissed my face, and she longed for me and I knew how much it hurt her. She was the love of my life, but I would get so lost in her body. She kissed me, and I did not kissed her back. I just wanted her conscience, she kissed my neck, down my body, her thighs, my hands, I knew she would cry herself to sleep the next days. But you see, I loved her most when she would hurt herself for me. She believed when I told her I would give her the world. She believed in my good heart. Even when I consumed all the extract of her soul. She was a kindhearted woman, and I made her unholy, I hurt her till I knew she would never leave me. I took her time, I took her lust, and put them in a glass. She became my enchanted rose. I watched her petals fall for me. She kissed me beastly. My beauty, I never gave her romance, and that’s why she had always sad eyes. I loved this woman, till her bones fell apart. Till she wouldn’t write me poetry.

I’ve spent this year as a ghost, and I’m not sure where home is anymore.