(Warning: A couple of bad words. Explicit moments referred to. Note: fiction)
Fuck you and those moments that I want so bad of yours; only mine when I'm in your face, begging, coaxing, making them happen. All the while, there you are, not realizing the consequences of your actions. Or do you? Do you realize them? Deep down, every fool does.
And you, fool, are choosing to play the fool, at the expense of the nobody girls that would love a piece of your moments, moments meant for me. And there you are, giving away moments of yourself, moments you can never get back. And you wonder why you get so lost.
Memories are made every moment. The second you give away those moments, you have no hope or chance of recovering them.
Moments like tonight, make being struck by lightning a welcome pleasure. Jerk.
If I were never touched again, it wouldn't matter, because it would never be so spur of the moment, so true, that power of nature enveloping me in a moment I thought I would rather be with you.
Stings, doesn't it? Stung me too, before the cumming of the thundering rain.
- ▼ July (5)
- ► 2009 (132)