𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙈 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙀

"But with both hands and all that I am.. can you handle me, still?"

How would I be so lucky to get the blessing of your waterlily tongue speaking of loving me as you love on me. I wish you had more hands to grip my ass, grasp my throat, press play to The Weeknd’s Trilogy on repeat with whispers of “you are my everything” and still hold my whole world in your callused hands. I see you for miles now. No matter how perfect the world thinks you are, I see your damage and... it's such a turn on to know that through bullshit, you can manage. But with both hands and all that I am.. can you handle me, still? Take care of the Mangorita lullabies, strip games and soft purring delays we often displayed many nights when our art wanted to get away from us. I was one spin as the lights dim-away, in 2 minutes holding my favorite drug TF. Standing alone I don’t tumble but in your soul I rumbled, lost my mind and decayed. Studio sessions over as it all winds back and replays. Instrumentals on stay with long talks of political plays and societal dismays. Mental shelter for in heaven and hell you and I were a WWE match to be made. Nothing left to show the talks slow and our hearts fade from yellows to grey. The screen turns black as everything I had left to say leaves my body and picks up when Caretaker replays. “I’ll take care of you..”