“bitter taste” [rhymed short story]

“Ah..” – it goes as I breathe out in my head.
The heart is thumping on and on, the bitter squeeze of darn heart.
“…that’s the forgotten awe of the sense that lingers as aftertaste in the mouth, as you read up on another fictional wrath of a piece of art.”
It’s absolutely splendid.
The love that makes it feel odd, the feeling of the sense of something more…
Like… can we discuss the stories with a rotten type of love? With love that causes pain, hurts and makes you feel misery, yet drives you insane? Craving kisses, touches, that moment in time to grab you and shove against the wall and make you mine…
You don’t like me, you won’t say… Are you sad, are you mad? But you’ll keep silent instead.
You like messing with others head, as you have been on the verge of breakdown, lock-down, heart bottling and nerve pondering heat… swelling in between those tied up feet, that you so well pretend not to care of, yet it makes you mewl in your head that you’d take it in instead, not holding back, fingers clutching to skin, as the pleasure comes sweeping from within…
Are you so emotionally thin or lips that are pressed makes it seem like you’re stressed…
I’ve witnessed your pleasure, no pressure.
I’m craving for something insane. Please, sure, go and reach your fame.
I’ll see you come back, with hands tied behind your back, begging for embrace, do you have no grace?
Come and serve the words, come and cry for more, come and make me sure… That I’m someone you’ll never forget.

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