Dogs Chasing Cars I’m not supposed to enjoy the chase this much. That’s the sign

Dogs Chasing Cars

I’m not supposed to enjoy the chase this much. That’s the sign of a temperament, an inclination, a proclivity towards the act, the thrill, the adrenaline hit that I get when I’m in pursuit. That’s the sign of someone who won’t be satisfied when they catch the object of their desire, when I’ve finally got you. I’ll just go searching again. 

But it courses through my veins, when I’m after you. It’s an electric thrill that starts in my chest and rockets down my fingers, to every word that I type, up to my lips, making them fuzz, to every word that I whisper in your ear. The world is vivid, when I haven’t quite got you yet. It feels like I’m on edge, tracking every single detail of every single scene, for the one thing that will make you mine. 

The trick, then, isn’t to figure out a way to lock myself down, make me not want to chase any more, geld myself so that the urge to run doesn’t make my leg twitch when I’m asleep. 

No, the trick is to never let me stop running. I haven’t got you until you’re down and begging, every piece of yourself offered up on a platter. The girl that always has something left, not held back but just further in, is the one that will keep the electric running over my skin,every hair raised and on edge. A bottomless depth of a person, a midnight blue.