How long does it last?
How long until we stop holding each other’s hands? How long until we stop staring endlessly into one another’s eyes?
How long until the days of feeling the warmth of your body in my bed become nights of a missing piece to a puzzle beside me?
How long until I no longer say, “good morning” to you every morning?
When will the time come where you no longer tell the world how much you love me and I just become a faded memory?
How long until we allow others to dictate the beauty we created and turn it into a disaster?
Maybe when we ignore the bullshit this theory of, how long will never come and we will never have to question when or how long.
With every stroke she drowned.
With every touch she felt her body suffocate and she couldn’t control it.
He did not hold her right, he did not touch her correctly.
She was a piece of meat to him, as much as he said he cared his touch said another story.
As she layed there allowing him to touch her body her mind drifted away. Thoughts of joy, life, flowers. Anything that could deter her from being in that moment.
She wanted him to wait, yet he took what he wanted.
With every stroke she drowned, hoping to come up for air.
On his final stroke a tear just flowed through her face. A tear of regret, pain, anger, destruction.
With every stroke she drowned wishing it would end so she could breathe again.