flights & flats

he came in unannounced.

my heart didn't skip any beat,

it bounced.

I wasn't particularly interested,

I was rather relaxed.

How ingenuous

that he found the right hacks,

that he chose the right tracks.

My books and giggles

captivated him, I guess.

The piano got to me,

I didn't want him distressed;

rather undressed.

And I don't particularly want to think

about the fact that I-

I look a little bit like his ex.

Not that I would ever mind

I'd just rather take my axe.

one day we were just chatting

I secretly looked at flights

he suddenly looked at flats

whose dreams were we crashing?

Not built for love:

this craving in my veins

it's everything I hadn't prepared for.

(A mother can't be craving anything than her child.)

Not quite what I'd signed up for:

craving to be on all fours

wandering

the inside of his doors

i wanna feed him from source.

I can't eat

(everything's tasteless)

it won't work

(words meaningless)

No need to think

(business hours).

All I want is to:

relive this feeling

relove this being

forcing him down on me

in the back of my head

craving his meal instead

won't make it to the bed.

I need him

inside me

again & again

in the songs I make him listen 

in the calls, I live imprisoned

in the pictures, can't envision 

in all those sins... no opposition.

in the body no one would Christen.

I need a plan and a plane.

he has a home 

and a couple of things I crave.