My funny torment

Me eating an apple, Still life in motion. Me watching you, Sturm und drang of the 21st century. Feeling like burning inside while acting a perfect cold manner. I don’t wear anything but a too large T-shirt, you don’t wear anything but me, and it fits you perfectly. The music is surrounding, drives your hands on my hips, my feet can’t touch the ground anymore. It makes me feel masochistic, you having me, you knowing it. My hair surround your fist that gently throws my back back, my spine arched in a smile, pushed me far yet closer to you. I can just feel the breeze of yours, breathe blowing on my shoulder, emotional drops flowing. I am a stretched sheet close to tear, two massive forces I could just put together, to which surrendering, intact.