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ForgottenBreath -> The Phone Calls (1/6/2005 7:10:57 PM)
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The night fades into bleak morning hours
A soft ringing draws me from my dreams
The phone is drawn near my ear
Your voice like a beacon pulling me from fantasy to reality
Even in these morning hours
when my voice is husky and deep with sleep
You want me, You torment me
Wicked promises push me right back into fantasy
It is an odd dance, slipping between the worlds
Real and fake, promises and threats, wanting and elusive
Every word uttered pushes me in and out
Drawing me close yet keeping me at bay
my hands become Yours, Your hands travel me
pinching, pulling, twisting
my body writhing in sweet agony while You listen
Whimpers, pleas, sobs falling from dry lips
i cry for You, i moan and scream
Your hands, or mine moving under controlled influence
carrying me away towards the pinnacle of desire
Shivering form captured in the rapture of release
Every morning we share these moments
Each seeming more real to me than the previous day
A bug caught in a spiders web, exhausted from fighting
i am unable to ignore the phone and get better rest
It's the early morning hours once more....
my dreams are sweet and lure me into heaven
And in the distance there is a sound pulling me
The phone ringing upon it's cradle like a flame for a moth.
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