I remember this place.
The small noises you'd make.
In the corner where the bed frame,
Lays and still shakes for me in my head.
Quakes.
Falls silently dead.
Again.
601.
Paper thin walls.
I remember this place.
The shapes your face made.
The way your waist played.
3 intimate words.
Each one, a shaking, slamming door.
"**** me harder"
My body does it's chores.
Once more.
I've torn my self away from the floor.
Crawled into the bed and wore,
Your body around mine, your arms, your legs, an infinitely warming form to explore, to spread apart and reform.
Each move of mine,
Unsure.
My Limbs and yours
Consort.
We are the wind and the beating roar.
We are the storm. We are the storm.
Your lips felt like needles on my neck.
Your body was sore, your body was tense,
body, sore, tense, aching was your spine.
And good god, you know I'll message every part yours, with every part of mine.
