you aren’t in love with me.

you're in love with the thought of me.

 

in love with the way my waist

dips in

to my hips,

travelling

to curvaceous

bottom.

 

in love with the velvet folds

that lay

between the valley

of my legs.

 

in love with the sound

of your name

escaping my

lips.

 

in love with the

pleasure I  give.

 

no, you aren’t in love with me.

you’re in love with the thought

of being inside

me.