May 2017
The weight of you
sitting upon me.
My fingers rake
your thick mop of hair.
My fingertips graze
your porcelain skin.
Inhaling your scent*
like a breath of fresh air.
And I miss it.
I miss it all.
-m.b
sitting upon me.
My fingers rake
your thick mop of hair.
My fingertips graze
your porcelain skin.
Inhaling your scent*
like a breath of fresh air.
And I miss it.
I miss it all.
-m.b
