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Had that look of a note.
A note passed from his soul to mine.
At the end your secret admirer.
At the tip the blood of a heart shaped stain.
It stained the paper so deep.
My fingerprints bled upon it.
My eyes looked up in a far off distance.
So far off in set of what I think to be his feelings.
He looked at me, twitching his spirit at me.
I looked back.
His eyes demanding attension from my fearful heart.
I had no choice but to give in. To go inside his abyss.
More and more I began to feel his love, that agressive torch of a sexual touch.
The whispers were hitting my stomach as the notes became more lavish.
I had no choice but to vomit the pleasurable abuse from him.
The collide of love and anger blended into a scene thats choking me out.
I came up with a plan.
I met up with him.
And him with me.
He stared at me as though his eyes were bombing my caved feelings.
I went deep into staring at him back.
He started to persuade my heart into pumping my feelings to the point were it hurts.
And I had no choice but to bleed out.
And let him drink of me.
