He's your pillar, he's your strength. He's your compass, he's your direction. You secretly want him so much you can't wait to peel off his face and dig out his heart and eat it, yet at the same time you proclaim you want to dissolve his remains in hydrochloric acid, after dismembering his body and feed it to dogs.
Bipolar. Love hate. Tension, suspension and anticipation. He strokes your hair, gaze into your eyes yet when you move closer, he doesn't want to kiss you. Places a finger on your lips. Instead he heads for your neck, so dangerously vulnerable, yet teasingly enjoyable. So close yet so far; you hear his breathing, you feel his body pulsating heat.
Your heart anticipates. Your body vibrates and tingles with suspense. You rummage through your mind, trying to link what you're feeling now to what you've felt before. Your brain fails. You can't wait to bring him closer, cuddle him for the rest of eternity, yet culture programmes you to play hard to get. Patience. Tolerance. Build-up.
He breathes on your neck ever so gently, so subtle, your neck hair moves in the direction of his breath like the grass in the plains dancing to the song of the wind. Electrochemical signals of pleasure reaches your brain.
Bite it, bite it gently.
Instead, he unlocks himself from the embrace, gets up, kiss your forehead, winks and leaves.
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