pulsating ~ bad girl ~ lust

it's
the type of itch
that wont go away...
until
it

gets
scratched

deep, underneath, hidden
until knees weaken and blood rushes to pulsating portion
the formation of contorted limbs
wrapped around your legs like vines
we're wildly intertwined

only in my mind
does the itch cease
when you assist her crease with your piece
and place my piece between your teeth

and

take me to that place where the itch ceases
I'm broken like tiny micropieces
of paint chips
from the wall behind the headboard

I've lost
I'm lost
you've got the winning score
I'm
no
more
good

bad girl

I should leave but my heads sore
cant make it to the door
to open it
moment before
I rose from your bed of lust to go
you pulled me forward
closer toward--you
and did once again what you do--so well

scratching my itch until it ceases
whenever I itch
for you.