flat tongue dragging through my slit,
sinking over my clit,
licking heavy and savage.
Little Death gasps.
My brain dives into an ocean of nothing.
A low moan shakes from Ben.
“Taste so fuckin’ good, Baby,” he growls.
His mouth is moving.
His tongue is moving.
I’m the only thing standing paralyzed.
‘Cause it’s too late.
In my mind, Andrew’s thumb is dragging slow across my knuckles, navy eyes slipping in where tongues can’t reach,his phantom kiss still tingling my lips as if he never fucking left.
None of it’s real,
but my body’s dumb enough to yearn for him.
My heart’s dumb enough
to beat louder as if Andrew will hear it.
He’s the one who left?—
my heart should know better.
This is how his angel cries,
finds herself in the deep end,
numb and dry-eyed,
her heartbeats echoing
like fists on a locked door,
each sharp breath nailing pain into her chest,
pretending an addiction
isn’t just another name for coffin.
My heart should fucking know better.
“Say yes. C’mon, Baby, fuckin’ say it.
“Tell me I can fuck you.
“I been watching you?—”
