all those years ago how could we know,
that i'd be sitting here and you sitting there,
in your chair staring down a wall,
while i tried so hard to call you without,
ever picking up the phone.
the times that separates us.
the hate for what never was.
the passion screamed out in wordless noise,
and yes, i cried those tears for you.
you never knew,
and never will know this.
and the time keeps moving along us,
gliding past our vacant stares to space,
wishing there was a place where,
i could look at you and you i,
and caress the sighs that escape those lips.
but a shoulder is to be turned,
and the whole world can be burned,
before we ever admit our search is futile,
in others smile,
for yours is the one i yearn,
though i won't tell
and you won't know this.
all those years ago and how could we know,
that you'd be sitting there and i sitting here,
in my chair staring down a wall,
wishing so hard you'd call for me but never,
hearing anything at all.
Little things throughout the day... wishing things were different.
Like touching, smelling, and feeling that connection...simple? You want to feel that collar don't you?
Yes. That is a pretty big hole inside lately.
Did you feel a little better doing as told last night? Even for a moment?
Yes, a little.
It's just not wanting to do, it's that need. To be what is needed.
It's not even just the submission alone.. it's the whole picture that I am needing... a connection I am craving, along with the physical presence and giving of myself... all of it. Each part is sitting before me separately... none of it fills the void alone.
Friendship, companionship, the feel of someone in the house that cares, letting go and accepting where you need to be, having someone that gives a damn about you...
Aria stole a peek with one eye. Shoes. He was still there... waiting. She could feel his eyes on her as she knelt at his feet. He hadn't said a word. He was just waiting, but he knew once she gained the courage to look into his eyes, she was his. For now, she could have her little streak of defiance, keeping her eyes squeezed shut, head bowed. She would look, sooner or later, she always did, and he was patient. Like many times before, she would turn her face to him, glancing at his face, his mouth, before finally settling her gaze on his eyes, and there she would stay... trapped. The courage would drain from her eyes to be replaced with a sweet simple pleading. A look he fed off of and would use to take her body to places she fantasized about in the deep dark recesses of her brain. He held her enthralled. Each blink of his eyes causing a momentary pause her life, like a little death, to be returned once those eyes held her again.