If I Didn’t Know Better

If I didn’t know better, I’d capture the stars for you
Illuminate every inch of mischief you keep buried

The whisky we drink warms our throats, coats our inhibitions
But I keep drinking, fuzzy thoughts of you keeping me company

Darling, you’ve got a lover waiting for you
Yet here you are —
If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wanted me, too.

Give me one night alone with you
I’d let it happen, let myself fall
If I didn’t know better.
But I do, I do.

But you’ve got me feeling again, opening up
My thoughts finally settling inside my noisy head

If I didn’t know better, I’d want this
I’ve been waiting for you, I’ve ached for you
And now you’re here, I want you to stay
If I didn’t know better, I’d ask you to.

I crossed a line, I want you to be mine.
In my arms, in my bed,
In my heart, in my head.

You’re captured me, all yours, all yours.
If I didn’t know better, I’d find a way.


Writing is my escape. It’s the thing that jerks me out of my head for a while, distracts me from the noise, helps me channel my frustrations into words — helps me heal.

So why are words not coming easily to me lately, even when life feels so hard?

Her Lips

I miss kissing you.

But not just kissing you. The way you kiss. The build up. The tension. The way your sparkling eyes grow darker when I lick my lips in anticipation, taking my bottom lip between my teeth as I grow needy. The way you start slow, gently, to draw me in deeper. Soft kisses that tease and make me tremble for more. The way you give me just a little taste, before devouring me completely.


That slight of touch
So slight, you barely feel it

Oh, but you do
Shooting shivers up your spine
As the tingle drives its way down your sides

Too delicious to pull away
Desire filling every ounce of your being

That slight of touch
With the tip of my fingertip
As I trace the shape of your parted lips

Ever so slight,
The shiver creeping down in all its delight

My fingertips move to trace your jawline
Sculpted, carved out like artwork

Down your neck to your collarbone now
Such an underrated spot that makes you shiver

Across your chest, then down your sides
Fingertips dig into your hips, pulling you closer
The shiver dissapates, turning into pure need


I can still feel the burning of your fingertips dancing over smooth flesh. The allure of indulging in something I never thought I’d be able to procure. The aroma of want lingering in the air and the flavor of need as I devoured you.

The sounds of an angel escaping your plush, parted lips as our bodies trembled when we got what we both craved.

Over and over, the desire consumed us.
And I never wanted it to stop.