Chapter 1 of 1
Your eyes are the wrong color.
That’s what I think when I fuck you.
I’ve got nothing against you--nothing for you. You don’t inspire feelings in me, or tenderness. You’re just a tool. A temporary placeholder for her. You’re not part of my plans for the future, though it’s so easy, so necessary to make you think you are.
So I push your legs up, till your knees are practically touching your shoulders. I take you. You writhe under me, smiling, needing, willing, wanting my love and approval. And I look into your needy, big blue eyes and feel--nothing.
Though it’s is kinda cool that I can say things to you that make you cringe--then come all over yourself. And afterwards, you weep in my arms like I’m the only person who’s ever bothered to look at you and touch you and--maybe I am.
That’s just sad.
I guess if I could feel anything for you, I’d feel sorry.
Sorry your eyes are the wrong color. Because I look into them and I feel--
Nothing.
Chapter 1 of 1