Whenever I'm with you,
I don't hear our clothing fall.
nor the change in our breath,
or the neighbors down the hall.

There is no sound in between us
the heat then speaks instead
it dances with us, back and forth
leaving sentences in sweat.

I have never heard hesitance,
or shame when we are close.
I hear nothing but the sweet nothings
that we already know

So to me we lay in silence,
which is strange to all but us
but our true love is deafening
if you listen hard enough.

The lips I could have kissed
the skin I could have felt
the hips locked to my hips
the wonder below his belt

hair trapped in my fingers
his forehead upon mine
arms wrapped 'round to linger
on the top of my backside

hands that could have fumbled
the clothes stuck to my skin
hiding the innocence
I'd grown to confide in

had I pushed the boundary,
had I of given in,
My skin would now be cursed
with his, an aging sin.

I could never forgive
myself for that action
my body was not his
to own, then abandon.

millions would do anything
to stand where I stand
to greet the creator,
the focal point of man.

many would fight,
or die for this chance,
to finally question
our worlds existence.

but I simply can't
bring myself to awe
for a master of blood
abuse and wars

I just have one thought
that I want you to know
my faith in you left
along time a go

and even standing here
won't make you exist.
there is no grand creator
just a disastrous myth.

Something snapped.
the last straw, perhaps.
it all became too much, the pressure builded until the force of it pushed against my conscience and called my fury into action.
and the movement was so fast that the world slowed down around it.
like my brain had already processed it and replayed it to myself, as slowly as it could.
either so I could fully feel the severity of what I've done...
or maybe just so I could revel in it.
in that fury. the fury that set me apart from myself.
and showed my true capabilities.
and when my hand flew through the air with the lamp I'd grabbed near by,
and collided heavily into his head,
splitting the skin and breaking the bone and mutilating his last thought as the shards pierced his brain..
I felt an odd peace.
that peace of justice and contentment.
but then the sirens ***** the silence...
and my fury rose once more.

Her breath catches. she turns over. it doesn't matter, no matter what she does, she won't sleep. that itch is there.
she lies on the flat of her back, staring at the colours swirling on the ceiling with the shadows dancing with them. she starts thinking about him again. the way his hair curls at the end, the way it moves when the wind blows around, the way his face scrunches up in amusement, the way he holds himself, how he leans in when he speaks, his lips, his face, his eyes...she lets her mind wander...aswell as her hand...
her breath catches again, but for an entirely different reason.
setting a steady pace she drives herself insane, physically with resistance and mentally with reminders of who she can't have.
two years gone and she still can't stop. she loves him. everything about him, the air around him, even. she adores him and it's killing her.
her legs widen to accomadate her rising arousal, a low moan grows in the back of her throat, pushing her forward making her desire vocal, unlike the love that has crushed her heart over and over, again and again, she can't stand it anymore.
her speed increases and she breaks a sweat. she's crying now, thinking about the rehashed fantasy she built in her brain. how she'd loose herself to him, give him eveything, let him take her to places shes never been before. She cries because she knows it'll never be so, all she'll have is her own little bed and her own hand for company, no strong arms to hold her as she falls asleep, no sweet lips to kiss goodnight, no growing passion pushing into her ever so warmly.
suddenly she bucks, screams out in pain and passion, and curls in a ball to live through the aftershocks and the screaming agony her heart holds, she pretends he's holding her and slowly falls asleep.

I
can
draw
it
out
for
as
long
as
I
want

*it still lacks depth.

I could of ended it all.
One phrase. not long enough to be a typical, acceptable sentence.
the power of words is astounding.
with just a couple, I could of broken your heart and my own and changed our lives forever.
with just one sweeping statement.
and what's worse is

I wanted to.

and that scares me.
the words scare me.