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There are stories in your eyes.

I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-

always disappearing
with the dawn.
I would awake with
nothing
but the shape of you
on my bed and the
gloom of you on
my skin.
 Sep 2014 Musarrat Bte Salam
Rake
This sky has secrets, how could it not?
It's seen plague and wars that others forgot.
It leaks this light in its sheet of black
But why so little? why hold back?

This sky keeps to itself, it stores its wonder
And still I'm in awe of this ceiling I'm under.
If your dust is me and my dust is you,
Then why do I feel so small in this nocturnal view.
The most **** thing about a guy has nothing to do with his clothes, hair or eye colour.

It's in the way he looks at you with longing, when you finally find out he wants you just as badly as you want him.

When he pulls you so close to him that there is literally no space between you, because he can't stand the thought of there being any.      

When he kisses you, so that it feels as if he is stealing the air from your lungs, and for those few seconds you forget what air even is.
    
When all thoughts go out the window and its just him, with you,in the most simple way possible.

Now that is the definition of ****.
Pure passion is ecstacy...

— The End —