I want you to moan… I want you to gasp in my ear, pretending like you’re trying to hide the sound, like you’re trying to smother it, but I still hear it. I want your fingernails to dig into my skin and your lips to move faster and harder and deeper against mine. I want your eyes to roll back in your head and your body to push into mine, until we’re sticking to each other’s skin. I want to feel the heat radiating from your skin, I want to feel your muscles shake against my flesh. I want you to beg and I want you to throw your head back, shuddering for breath. I want your neck to be exposed for me to bite and your chest to be bare so it can be skin on skin, flesh on flesh. I want my legs wrapped around you, I want us to grind on each other so hard it makes your muscles clench and your jaw drop and your face to tense in ecstasy.
"Don’t make empty gestures. I want plain things, warm things. I’m so tired of your lack of everything thoughtful, wise about you. You act like a child, a child that just asks and asks and asks and never thinks and sucks one to death, and I’m sitting here just crying because it’s so hopeless to ever expect you to be otherwise. Above all, I am sad because it is always the same. Everything hopelessly the same. And rebellion. And a desire to run from it all to some real human love. At the bottom it’s because it’s only yourself that counts, your friends, your mood, your impulses…but all like a child’s, irresponsible, meaningless, without any depths."
"Yes, I was infatuated with you; I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn’t stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren’t having any of those."
Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath (via durianquotes)