I want him on top of me, in my bed, right now.
I want to be trapped in his arms with no way of escaping.
I want to devour him. I want him to devour me.
He's a work of art, a mural on the dirtiest of walls, portrayed with the most otherworldly shades and tones and strokes.
I want him to polish me with all his colors on my body, to permanently stain me with a part of him that will never come clear.
That can never be taken from me.
