1. I wish for blood rushing, skin touching, guilty endeavors.
2. I wish for an apology.
3. I wish for an approval from reflections.
4. I wish for stability.
5. I wish for, oh forget it.
Carelessness, I miss it. You use me, I use you. You, aggressive. I, ruthless. I will reciprocate. Treat me like an object, I already view you as one. Call me your substance, overdose. You have no control. That is me. You toss it back. I will give it back worse than you had planned for it. Latch and lust, is it my fault? Treat me like it's my fault. Tell me it's my fault that I don't know what making love means. Because I don't. You only showed me the other.
That was one.
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
© 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.