Baby, I knew the taste of your lips before I even knew your full name

And I can still feel your fingertips,

Like phantom touches on my arm,

I can still feel the cold cement of the wall.

As you used it to press me against you,

Caught between a literal rock and a hard place if you will.

God, I can still see your face

Your dark eyes,

Made deeper with desire

Like two abyss' that illustrated your burning fire

And your rosy lips,

Full and plump.

Bruised from my abuse

Make out sessions always seemed to escalate between me and you.

I still feel the scruff of your beard,

As you placed kisses down my neck,

Feel the heaving of my chest

As you towered over me,

Nipping and biting my flesh.

As you dug your nails into my soft skin,

Leaving a mark, so people would know "She's his"

I traced small circles on your collar bone

The only part of your caramel skin you let show

And I trailed my hands up so that they were cupping your face

But you pulled them away.

You always liked when I was pinned,

Said my arms got in the way.

So I watched as your hands swallowed mine

A serious look on your face

I still smell your cologne

Its scent is embedded in my skin,

Still fell the love marks you left me with

I still hear your moans,

As you touched me.

My voice quivering with every kiss

Your voice darkened with lust,

As your hands roamed down, grasping my butt.

I remember your words bouncing off the walls,

An echo of all the things you wanted to be done.

You always did say stairwells were the most 'fun'.

Your hands went lower,

And I let out a shudder,

Trying to cover my face.

I remember being cold,

The stairwell was freezing,

But your hands were burning,

As you touched me all over the place

Scorching my skin

With your crimson fingertips

And I remember thinking the sharp contrast in our temperatures

Was just another way we were different.

Your hands ran up my thighs

And you expelled a wordless sigh

As I braced my head against the wall

You moved your hips slowly

My back arched unknowingly

And you took that as a 'go'

In one frantic motion, you had managed to undo my buttons and my pants

You took step back,

But I longed for you to be closer

A grin spread slowly across your face

“I have to say I like you better that way” you sighed, gesturing to me wild state.

My panties were peeking out, and my hair was all over

The straps of my bra falling over my shoulder.

You licked your lips,

Like a lion ready to pounce.

You moved the hair out of my face gently

Before roughly kissing me on the mouth

Your fingers began exploring

Playing the piano on my clit

As I took a sharp gasp with every nerve you hit.

You ran your tongue down my jawline

Dipping your head lower and lower

Until you were biting through my clothes.

Sucking the sensitive flesh exposed

I moaned your name,

Which tasted like honey on my lips

As every syllable danced across my tongue

You placed a hand on the wall

And even though our skin was touching it still felt like we were worlds apart.

I needed you closer

Needed you on top of me

Needed every square inch of our bodies to be touching

You pulled down the lace, with a forceful yank

And spun me around so we were no longer face to face

You pressed me into the wall,

The damp cement making my chest hard

As you covered your arms over mine and began to thrust

First slow,

Then rough

And before long we here huffing

Yelling each other's names,

You peppering kissing across my shoulder blades

And when it was all over I looked back to see you,

But your image began to fade

For you were just a memory

A mistake I had made,

And your vision remained

Every day since

Our last stolen stairway kiss

My nightmare started like this. I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned. Florida, I thought. Though I wasn't sure how I knew that. I'd never been to Florida.

A man came swiftly up behind me and grabbed me roughly by my right upper arm, dragging me forward as I stumbled on the wet road. “What are you doing out here? Didn’t you know a hurricane was coming?”

I yanked my arm out of his grip and fell forward into a teeming puddle which was running in crooked channels down the sidewalk, skinning my knees in the process. I looked up and saw the man standing over me threateningly. I was horrified when I noticed he had a knife in his right hand as he gestured for me to get to my feet.

I looked around to see if anyone was around but the idyllic little beach town was empty and forlorn. Anyone with any sense had scurried to shelter. There weren’t even any rocks on the ground for me to defend myself, just windblown sand plastered to my body.

“Who am I?” I wondered, as I saw my wavy reflection in the puddle. I was running from someone but as hard as I struggled to remember, no awareness came to me. I just knew the man was malevolent and I had to escape this uncertainty.

All of a sudden, I felt like a lightning bolt had hit me as the past came flooding back. This was my husband who had followed me from Maine to Florida in order to kill me for the large insurance policy he had taken out on me. I was so frightened that I forced myself to wake up from my nightmare and opened my eyes wide to the realization that this was no nightmare.

I kicked him as hard as I could in the crotch, causing him to double over and fall on the knife. I watched in horror as his blood mingled with the driving rain in crimson splashes.

I jumped to my feet and ran as swiftly as I could down the little empty street, trying to escape my past. Feeling powerful as my pounding footsteps mixed with the roar of the seething ocean, I could never have known that he was not dead as I kept sprinting, trying to outrun his anger and boiling venom. The struggle would last for many years as more bodies would be left in my wake. I have to admit that I was no angel and there was a lot more to my story which will gradually insinuate itself into my narrative in little staining drops of pure evil.