L.B.Austin

And he just sat with me until I could breathe again.

He owns me like a King whilst worshipping me at my feet.

She’s made of midnight and dawn, of lace and nettles, of a summer’s dusk and dew soaked lawns, her heart beckons with fangs and talons and shards of glass, and yet how she stills and quivers under the grip of his hand.

From the first moment he touched my skin, he reclaimed me as his.

His bite marks whispered poetry to her soul

“Who do you think you are?” She spat “Yours” He purred

His 4am voice laced with the most beautiful of darkest demons, as he drip drip dripped it into my ear. “Hold still little one we have games to play”

The girls with messy hair and depth of soul will love you so fiercely your heart will shatter and you’ll sit at their feet while they beg to be at yours.

"Always be brave and wild at heart."

He never feared the sound of my wings, never faltered as he taught me to fly.

Love me hard, teeth sinking, fingerprints on my skin, bruisingly hard.

My heart aches for all those who never find a devotion such as his.

He broke me to heal me.

She Who Was the museless muse and yet begged to lie at the devils feet.

I would pluck my own wings just to keep you warm

So beautifully shattered at his feet and held within his heart.

“I beg your pardon!?” She snapped. “Go on then” eye brow lifting as he challenged her. “Go on what!” She questioned looking perplexed. “Beg” he growled.

This isn’t love. It wasn’t ever love. It was always worship, from the first moment, of the first day, long before you ever took your first breath.

Aroused less by taking clothes off and so much more by “You’re safe now”

Thirsty for the way you growl “Mine”.

A whore for your whispers along my neck.