Attack And Receive

His words are on mine, pushing violently against the screen. The tension is enough to make my phone crack - but it doesn't.

I want you.
All of you.

Lungs feel crushed under miles of arousal. Room tastes of hot stars. We are not allowed.

I receive these attacks, these forceful blasts of passion, because what else can I do? What else can we be?

It's like this for hours, vowels pushing up into the glass, lightning fast. Forbidden.

My thumbs work double-time, pushing hard against the touchscreen that can't be touched hard enough. The deeper I press, the deeper I NEED to press.

I want to ...
... so hard that ...

Glass flies up into my face. Eye whites bleed. Nose stings. Lips suffer.

I wanted this. I wanted this.