My Words

He took my words. Words I needed to remember, read, hear. My enter key isn't working. Where are my words? Where's the I love you? I need it. I need to be able to read it and say he did love me. I'm not a whore. Because I'm not. I need my enter key. I need Caleb. He kisses me and loves me and holds me. I love his words. I can save his sweet little comments on my phone and read them. It says "From: Your True Love". That's what he is, on my phone, in my life. I love his kisses and the taste of him. He's much sweeter when he's being gentle with me, but when he wants me, the taste is strong and distinctive. You may not be able to place a scent or taste to lust, but I know it exactly. It's in his eyes, it's in his skin and spreads into mine. But sometimes he's sweet, gentle, kisses me instead of bites me, holds me, not holds me down. The words he whispers in my ear are my words. They belong to no one else but me and him and our skin and our senses. Even the things in his texts or how he asks for me. Everything about him addicts me. Garett took his words from me, he stripped me of a reassurance of good memories. So I read and read of Caleb's love. Sometimes I like provoking Garett to fight me, hate me. Did you know that the opposite of love is not hate? It's indifference. If I could get him to hate me, fight with me, attack me verbally, I could stand that. It's an emotion of passion, just the tiniest slide from love. Poor plaything. You took my words. I wish I could drown you in all the things Caleb tells me, murmurs for me or moans. I wish I could see your eyes close in defeat. You and I are not different. I too was willing to fight for love. But at least I slipped away quietly. You leave like a clumsy moose out of a china shop. This is what happens when you take my words. You allow me to want you to burn in hell. And my words are endless.