I miss finding bruises all over my body. It's like you leave a secret language in my body in places I didn't even know you touched. I love these bruises. I love examining myself in the shower, I love the little pains you give me, I love your language, I miss your secret Australian-American hybrid language, they were little reminders of you, me, us. My love, we are both going to consume each other until we are gratified, exhausted, and sweat coming out of every single place we can imagine. The raunchy, obscene, and sensual romance. I want that with you, I want it all with you. Bend me over the edge of the bed or let me sit on your lap facing you instead. Your face is a good runner up. I don't care, I just know I want you. I want to experience every bit of you, I want to explore every square mile of your design, I want you exploring me slowly, I want to be needy. Abuse me with your mouth, leave your marks on me. I want to claw the fuck out of your back when you pound me, when you make my cunt hurt so bad it feels so good. I want every inch, tear my clothes off, each and every stitch, I want you to walk around and I want people to see that you're mine. I want to not walk, I want you to leave me paralyzed waist down. Make my toes to curl, think about the softness of your tongue against mine, our mouths sealed together and our legs tangled in ourselves. Because every bit of me is you. And every bit of you is me. Kiss me deep into the darkling depth. Our fucked up kind of romance will pant and I'll moan high and mighty in unison. It'll use my fingers to trail your skin, it'll lick, it'll sting, it'll taunt. This ballad won't perform tonight but I'll sigh kindly, begging you that I want more. Telling you to do things to my nipples while your finger makes its way inside me. We're both hanging in picture frames somewhere in this place but my stare at you stayed the same. Here is what you do, you, saw open my sternum right in the middle and fit your fingers into the new space between, you get hold, and you pull, and it's steady and firm and you pry pry pry me open until you can see all of the movement inside, how my heart thu-thumps and my lungs fill up with every breath, and I guess you're watching both of them pick up speed, because I know both of them are increasing, and then you reach your hand down deep to wrap your fist around that drum beating its insistent, panicky rhythm. You say, "Pineapple," and then you give it a great tug, you dislocate it from its cavity and pull it free from all its connections and the ache spreads through me like thunder, like diving too deep, like the roaring of fire all the way to my fingers, all the way to my knees, and I'm feeling you hurt me while I'm watching myself from the outside, how my back arches, how my fingers curl into twin fists and my jaw clenches tight, how I'm trying to suck in air to keep breathing but nothing inside of me remembers how to work, and I think in a flash that I'm not trying too hard anymore, but I don't know that I'm trying hard enough either. You twist and you pull and then you retract your hand and my heart is thudding between your fingers when you hold it up to show me and I think, yeah, yeah, that's about right. And I want to wake up, please wake up, and when the sun blinds me after I open my eyes in the morning I think, maybe that was all just a dream, but, how weird, that I still feel the aching in my chest.

same soul / mountains / right where you left me songs that i wrote about you