I gag at the thought of your tongue invading my mouth.
I brush and brush and brush my teeth to loose the taste of you.
I scrub my skin raw until the feel of your touch disappears.
I cover my clothes in perfume so they won't smell like you.
I close my eyes and think of others just so I don't have to see your face again.
I curse my feet for covering the same ground towards your house over and over and over again.
You're just another Robby... only worse, because at least he knew how to turn me on.
Flattery will get you nowhere with me; it's nothing I don't hear every day. Tell me I'm your moon, your stars. Yeah, well, I'm just about every man's moon and stars these days it seems, so don't feel so special.
What is it you slip into my food to make me do this?
Just don't get me drunk, ass.
PS: Check out the newly redesigned 'lately' section... now sexxxy-er than ever, located at brundefly.diaryland.com... or just follow the link below...
'You're the flavour that lingers like ashes in my mouth' - j. englishman
