I miss the way you touch my skin, the surprise of your cold setting me on fire. Your motions trace against my life, reminding me to breath. I'm consenting to loss of control, giving into impulse. I count the days since, and crave the next.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
I miss the way you touch my skin, the surprise of your cold setting me on fire. Your motions trace against my life, reminding me to breath. I'm consenting to loss of control, giving into impulse. I count the days since, and crave the next.
