I love her

by maddrunkgenius

I love everything about her. I love her taste, I love her smell, I love the bristles on her venus and how they rub against my cheek. I love how her skin feels to my tongue, my mouth feels on her breast, how she feels in my mouth, how she coos around me when I’m inside her.

I love her.

I love her skin. I love her. I love the way her muscles move under the surface and how her flesh slides over her ribs, I love her, and to have her breathe against my chest — to watch her walk, stand, sit — is satisfaction. No, is rapture more than bliss.

I love her.

In sickness or in health, for rich or poor, pissing, puking, shitting, fucking, I love her. Everything about her, I love her. She can do no wrong because everything’s right about her. Her body is a temple, and I worship at her altar.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, she’s given birth to my joy, and what could be more divine or deserving of blessing?

I love her, but she’s left me, and taken my joy with it. I love her, but she’s gone away, and I can’t worship any longer. I love her, and I pray, but talk only to myself.

One day I’ll smash her head in with a rock.

I love her.