Woke up last night with my lips hurting. Touched them with my finger tips trying to think what could have caused it. Then I sleepily remembered, you.
My pleasure, my pain, wears the smile of a killer. You will be the death of me and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Living on the edge is so much more fun than the safety of an unwanted home. And you, my dear, are the most fun of all.
We aren’t supposed to do this, you say, but I like it when we do. You turn a world of boring Mondays into a life of thrilling Saturdays. And when I am away from you, I’m so lost.
So, thank you for the pain. It’s so delicious when you bruise me. Please keep them to the skin and not the heart.
Kissing you, I feel like a winner.