hours of mine in lifetime .

i remember: when my clothes fell to your bedroom floor i felt alive. i felt complete. i felt the warmth of your arms around me, the taste of your lips embraced with mine; mouth meets neck, hipbone meets hipbone. i remember: retracing your curves as you squeezed my lower libido. your tongue's texture: new. exciting. slippery. the structure of our anatomical collision: fast-paced. i remember: how your dirty mattress became my new sanctuary. my fulfilment. my release. my safety escape. or how your curtains became my protection from reality. is this even real? a lucid dream, perchance? impatient exchange. or imperfect romance? a casual relief. fornication's dance? am i in the wrong? am i in your heart? am i in love? lust? or below the belt? am i beneath the sheets you use with every other guest? am i another fetish simply shoved amongst the rest? an unreturnable gift, an irreplacable wish. a sticky situation of: sweat, years, 'trust' (over-expectations) i think you should know the scent of your cherry body wash, the one we said looked like blood, it still lingers on my hands. i think you should know that lather rinse repeat only matters to me if i'm in your shower. in your house. in your pants. i think you should know i remember every detail. i think you should know i don't regret one thing.

I always hope you guys are here for me to listen what's in my heart and mind .

I always hope you're here to love me like what others do .