He is mine
And he will always be mine forever.
When he smiles to those fuckin’ bastards, just to be polite. God damm it, he is always polite. It’s just so bloody frustrating that the only time I have with him is inside a studio and at the hotels we stay in. And it breaks my heart when I see that his smile is for some fuckin’ bastard or a stupid slut. I fuckin’ get possessive and jealous over the smallest things. However, my wife and his girlfriend are the perfect cover for our love. I cherished those nights when we share a hotel room, after a tiring concert or those annoying interviews. His soft skin against my fingers, against my lips. So bloody intoxicating. His scent. Like sweat, cigarettes and just something that is uniquely Paul. His ruby lips that beg to be ravished. His beautiful and bright eyes that seem to call me like a moth to a flame. I wish to just drown in them for eternity. Every time we make love, his luscious moans and whimpers echoed inside our bedroom. Oh god, those are my favorites. And the most beautiful thing about him is that his embrace is the most safest place to be. His embrace will always be my sanctuary.
He is mine.
Because the moment he became mine was when we saw each other for the first time in Woolton on 6 July at the St. Peter's Church garden fête.