#kda
**If going to
bed with
you is a
sin, I don't
ever want
to be holy.
The only lightning I'll be struck down by is when your lips
touch my neck. I want to let your love permeate through all
of my soul.
Your lips
would be
my chalice,
and I'd
drink away
my demons;
I'll whisper
confessions
of my love
at night
through
bed-sheet
veils and
heartfelt
prayers.**
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
*I just wanted to say
that I'll always
love you infinitely more
than you could ever hate yourself.
So if you ever need a reminder
of all the reasons you could be loved,
come into my arms and
let my hands dance down your back,
I'll tell you different ways I love you
with every vertebra I touch*
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 4:25 AM UTC
*Listen.
Let’s just strip down to the skin and warm each other up under these covers. I want to lay down atop you and let my head rest on your waist, snug between those lovely hips of yours, just above your *** I want my hands to waltz around your thighs and listen to your gentle breathing synchronize with mine. I want to feel you giving in to this moment, I want to feel your body let go and your muscles unclench.
I want it to be completely quiet around us, not the dead kind of silence, the kind that’s comforting and warm. We don’t need words, our touch conveys what our hearts beat for.
Don’t think.
I don’t want you thinking about what’s happening tomorrow, what time the game is on, don’t think about what’s for dinner. Don’t think about that argument we had last week that still sits in your heart. Let it go dear, just for now. Don’t think.
Run your hands through my hair and think of all the memories we’ve made since the last time I cut it. Caress my face and look into my eyes, darling.
Now close yours. Close your eyes and open yourself up to me. I want to take my time in taking you in. I want to spend eternities on your lips, darling. I want to cup your face in these hands of mine and kiss you; I don’t want that kiss to lead to anything, it doesn’t need to. I want it to convince you of my undying love for you. Drink in the right-now of this moment, of me. I want to sit back and admire every inch of you, my dear, from your flowing tresses down to your toes, and everything in between. I want my hands to run down your valleys and hills and let my lips paint your landscape.
I want you to smile at me from under my touch and let out a laugh as I cover your face with happy kisses. Not the kind of laugh you’d give someone telling a joke, not the kind of laugh you force when someone says something mean. This is my laugh, you’ve saved it just for me, it’s sweet and soft and vulnerable and that’s okay because that’s how we feel right now.
I want to roll you over and let your body lay atop mine and simply hold you, caressing your every curve and warming your heart and your soul.
And then I want to do it again the next day, and every day afterwards until our bones are brittle and our days are at an end.*
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
*Now, before I met you
I was content with
twenty-four hours
in a day, but
now I wish
I could live
a thousand
lifetimes
in just
one
kiss*
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
There's a lot for you to learn, kid. (Mind you, I call everyone kid, don't take it personally.)
Make friends with her sisters, make sure her mother doesn't hesitate to call you her "sweetie". If you do that, you've secured yourself in a place very close to her heart. If her family can love you, she will love you.
If there's an insect on her radar, you get rid of it, no questions asked, no please and thank you. You get it done.
I don't care if dancing isn't your "style", that's one thing you can't take away from her. So it will just make your life easier if you just dance with her. Trust me.
Argue with her. Stand up for yourself. There are times when the fire in her eyes grows and feeds on your submission. It will burn her too, I promise. Douse it and any doubt she may have in her mind about your commitment.
She is one of the most driven, fearless, determined, and independent women I know that graces this earth. But there are times when her past spoils are not enough to appease her and she can and will drown in self-hate. I implore you to save her from herself in these times. She is worth too much. Hold her close and rub her back and tell her reasons for your love with each vertebrae you massage.
This girl will love you with every inch of her possible. She will love you wholeheartedly, she will give you everything she's got. Don't you dare give her anything less. Don't waste her time.
Gifts are always really special to her. She has this way of always getting you something you wanted, regardless of if you knew it. Her gifts are quirky and clever and incredibly thought-out. Appreciate them, please.
There will come a night where both of you will have fire for blood and lust for thoughts. Be gentle, be loving. Make her feel safe.
She gives many different kinds of kisses. She'll give you a quick kiss as you both head out the door, she'll give you these spontaneous kisses that will send smiles through every inch of you, every time. She'll give you kisses that make you question your self control. She'll lie on top of you and give you butterfly kisses with her eyelashes.
One thing she doesn't do is get jealous. Don't you take advantage of that. If she ever does, you’ll never know it. She won’t question you going out with friends or not replying to her texts. She will trust you with all her heart. Don’t **** that up.
I am begging you, demanding of you: do not hurt her. Hold her close to your heart. She will memorize the way it beats and she'll always be able to tell when you fall asleep.
Hopefully you won't have the same demons as I. But rest assured that if you do, she will recognize that all demons are just fallen angels and she will bring light and love back to your shadowed mind.
If you're the one that makes her the happiest, I hope you never have to feel the pain of losing her.
This girl is the last bit of gold in this world, don’t let that shine fade out. Give her every ounce of your being and she will do the same. You will never, ever be loved the way she loves again. You will never have to ask anything of the Universe again.
Sincerely,
A name you'll hear in passing.
P. S. I hope you like football.
P. P. S. I shouldn't have to tell you any of this. This shouldn't motivate you to treat her right. You should know instantly in your heart that this girl is precious and that you should cherish her. If your love for her doesn't make you want to do that, then don't waste your time. She deserves better.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
You've only ever seen yourself twice:
once in a reflection,
the other in a picture.
You've never truly seen yourself,
so I'll take the liberty to devote my entire life
to describing the extent of your beauty.
The first thing everyone notices about you is
that smile of yours, dear. It's dazzling. It's distracting.
It's absolutely lovely,
and no mirror nor picture can ever replicate its splendor.
Your warm smile melts the ice, while casual chit chat merely breaks it. When you smile, the edges of your eyes crinkle just the right amount, beckoning amiably.
Your laugh is a waterfall
and I want to spend my days letting it crash down upon me,
I want to drown in its bliss. Your laugh is a lilting balm
to the horrors these ears of mine have heard,
a soothing caress to my worrisome heart and mind.
Your eyes, you underestimate their charm.
You belittle them to simple drops of brown darling but they are transformed into pools of hazel, gold, honey, sepia, and cocoa in the sunlight.
I call them bedroom eyes.
I stare into them not to look at my reflection
but to look into your heart.
You smile with your eyes sometimes,
it's really quite lovely.
It's a shame you're not on the receiving end of it.
Your hair is absolutely stunning.
I could run my hands through it and let my fingers get lost in your curls and meet some bobby pins along the way.
You complain of it often, but
tracing the lines of your steep curls with my eyes
sends me into a happy daze.
On numerous occasions I have said it and I will say it again:
you feel beautiful. Your skin under mine feels absolutely lovely, my dear.
I could spend millennia letting my hands run
the length of your gorgeous body. And I'd do it happily, too.
I love the little moles you've got on your cheeks
and your ironing-board-scar and your lips (both sets).
You were born a blank page but now you're a beautiful work of art with depth and shades and texture.
Your body is a diamond: it is multifaceted and precious and priceless.
And it deserves to be looked at, my dear.
I adore your body, sweetheart. From the scoop of your collarbone,
to the curve of your back; from the gentle definition in your arms and legs
to the stronger curves of your *******
I love the beckoning rise of your hips and your thighs, and the gentle mound of your *** I could spend an eternity painting your body with my kisses, each a silent praise to the masterpiece that is your body.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 10:17 AM UTC
The weather is really light out; the breeze is cool but these sheets are warm and it's overcast but not cloudy. It's the perfect weather to wear sweatpants and tee shir- no, actually, it's the perfect weather to wear your skin atop mine. The perfect weather to caress your curves under these soft sheets, letting my body warm yours, letting my hands hold yours, letting my eyes drown in yours. It's the perfect weather to coat that lovely face of yours with happy kisses and smiles. It's the perfect weather to talk about how we'll raise Marlye and how big or small our house will be in Bremerton. It's the perfect weather to lie down on your stomach and list the reasons why you make me smile.
*But, in reality, you're not here.
So, it's the perfect weather for me to silently pad downstairs in sweatpants and a hoodie at 3 in the morning, start a *** of coffee, and plunk out lonely melodies on this piano of mine as I wait for my coffee and my heart to warm up. It's the perfect weather for my bones to ache for you, the perfect weather for my lips to still longingly have the lingering taste of you.
It's the perfect weather to miss you.
And you know I'm at a loss for words right now because I'm talking about the ******* weather.*
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
You're the earth
and I'm a crack in a sidewalk
but my love is like the galaxy
and no matter how you twist and turn
or how far you're forced away from me
or how many storms or disasters I have to endure,
I will always remain among the rubble,
and my love will still embrace your every curve.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
Scientists say chocolate releases
the same hormones into your blood
as being with your loved one does.
And so I'm sitting at my desk
and it's an ungodly hour to be eating candy
but you're not here and all I want is that
sweet, sweet satisfaction of having
the taste of you on my lips.
I'm craving you, a desire that
clenches at my stomach; all I want
is some oxytocin in my system.
I lean back in my chair and sigh, tearing
another wrapper as I do, each morsel a tease.
This cannot compare to the richness
of your eyes, or the silkiness of your thighs.
This makes my heart beat faster
but you- you make it pound. This sends warm
sensations through my body but your touch
sends lightning through my veins.
It's almost morning now,
wrappers are strewn about my desk
and yet I still crave you.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
*Brake, turn turn turn STOP.
Shift the gear from Drive to Neutral to Reverse to Park.
Switch off the lights, 3, 2, 1. Turn the key and pull it out.
Let go of the brakes. Move the seat back a couple notches. Lean it back a bit. Exhale.*
It's 5:36 and I haven't slept all night and I should've but I regret nothing. My hoodie smells like you, I bring it closer to my face. Your scent envelops me, embraces me, kisses me lightly. I wish it was your hair that was wrapped gently around my hand, not my hoodie string. I wish it was your body I was holding close to me, not the cold air.
Sigh. Shift legs around. Stretch arms out. Rub eyes. Look out the window.
I wish I could hold you and kiss you as the sun comes up. We've ended days together often, but we have yet to witness a sunrise. I wish you were here to tell me what colors were where in the sky. I wish I could point out the fading constellations and tell you the stories behind them, while adding on to our own.
Sigh again. Straighten seat, move it up a couple notches. Open the door, check pocket for keys, lock the door. Lean against it now. Sigh.
I'm thinking of my bed. it's cold, lonely, and it has an appalling lack of you in it. Your body isn't there to warm my bones. You're not there to hold and caress. We rested, naked in thought and partially in clothes.
Sigh once more. Close the door. Keys and hands in pockets. Walk up to the door, unlock it. Wipe feet on the mat. Shut it ever so softly (you can't be waking up Mum). Take off shoes. Sit on the stairs.
It's cold outside and in my bed and again, my bones are frigid. It's Sunday morning and I've a long day ahead of me. I've been up almost 24 hours but I can't seem to sleep: I'm going through withdrawal now, the ecstasy that is your touch now an hour old. I miss you.
Sigh for the last time. Get up, stretch out a bit, get off the stairs.
I shuffle off towards the kitchen and make myself some coffee. Strong, bold, and sharp. I wish it was your lips that I tasted at 6:43, accentuating my senses and jolting me awake.
Mug in the sink and sugar in the cupboard, milk and cream in the fridge. Up the stairs, right to the bathroom. Strip. Shower on.
The water runs down me and I wish once again that it was your body pressed up against me. Your ******* against my chest, the curve of your hips against my waist. Hands roaming, hearts beating, lips meeting.
Shower off. Drip drop blip blop. Dry off and dress.
It's 7:30 and my day has started, but my longing for you has yet to end.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 4:22 AM UTC
I’m awfully homesick, but
people always ask me the wrong questions.
It’s always
“Where is home for you?
Where do you go?”
The thing is,
“home”
isn’t a “where” question to me.
There is no mere
longitude and latitude
that can locate home for me,
my home is not cemented into the earth.
Home is a “who” question.
Who is home for you?
Where there ought to be brick and mortar there are bones,
where there should be couches and beds to rest on
there are arms open to embrace me.
I find home in no establishment of carpets and china cabinets,
I find comfort and solace in a person.
So, my dear,
you
are home for me.
And I’m homesick.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
I spell “I love you” on the lines of your collarbone
and I always try to go from one end to another,
brushing calligraphy strokes with my tongue
and blotting your skin as a page with my lips.
I never really have finished saying it,
and I guess I never will
my motions are lost among your curves
and my lips almost always end up
meeting yours somewhere in the middle.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
You, my dear, are made of flesh and bone and hopes and dreams just like the rest of us; you are no automaton, no cyborg. A mere tuning fork has more metal in it than you.
But I’ll still make you sing, my dear, my mouth coaxing soft moaning melodies from your lips. These songs are lovely, lustful little testaments to the intensity of my longing, they echo off your bouts and reverberate about your waist.
Staccato gasps and a gentle crescendo of your moans follow as I bow my tongue along your neck, plucking at your curves and ********* your lengths.
I’m no archer but I see a quiver in front of me as I pull at a string.
My chin piece is the bottom of your *** and together we play a masterpiece, your breath’s ragged cadence accompanying a mezzo-piano scream. We go on like this repeatedly, each dal segno al coda pulling one more riff out of you. Eventually my strokes and your moans harmonize and we crescendo, fortissimo,
bravo.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
We were an explicit map
You were Bremerton
I was Washington
and I was all over you
You sent chills down my spine
from Spokane to Ellensburg
They could hear us down in Centralia,
your moans sent the leaves
in North Cascades National Park rustling.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
She's
not just a girl.
No, one cannot simply
call her a girl.
She's
a storm,
a storm with skin, bound by
passion and dreams.
She's
a temptation,
her body a fire,
My senses a helpless moth.
She's
a maestro,
her laugh being
the sweetest symphony of all.
She's
a lioness,
the way she perseveres,
fights, and defends.
She's
a diamond,
brilliant and rare,
to be cherished and protected.
She's
a mile,
but only if
beauty was an inch.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Within my body is a bird's perch
and you've gone and fluttered your way into my heart,
making your nest of love and memories.
Your song's sweet notes float their way into my soul
and make me hum a song of longing.
You've made a home in my heart, dear,
and I've grown so accustomed to you
that you've become a part of me now.
My ribs exist to protect you, not my fragile heart.
My veins carry your melody like oxygen,
my lungs and heart have moved
to integrate you into the synergy of my chest.
The effects of your presence are permanent,
there is no undoing your being.
There is no going back.
My love has gone out to you,
irretrievably, irreplaceably, unconditionally.
And even now, my body is already sore,
anticipating and dreading the day you fly away.
It aches in fear of you wrenching your home from my ribs,
shattering the protection I've maintained for you.
The shards of my bones and the splinters of your nest
will forever remain embedded within
my flesh and my mind for all of eternity.
You may decide one day that you want to return home,
and I will split open these bones of mine once again,
just to welcome you back.
But you might not want to come back, however.
And in that case just know that you live on;
in my mind forever loved and remembered.
This pierced heart will always beat to your rhythm,
your song will always flow through my veins.
My flesh will always remember the touch of yours.
Know that within your own ability to fly, you gave me wings.
As you've grown over time, I've grown as well.
Just know that I will always hum your song
to comfort and heal myself, even as you flutter away
and I clutch at my chest and my sheets
while a note of hope rises in my throat.
"I have this breath and I hold it tight,
to keep it in my chest with all my might,
I pray to god
this breath will last,
even as it pushes
past my lips
as I...
gasp."
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
If I finally lost myself,
and the pieces of my mind and soul
were as scattered as my thoughts,
would you find them for me
and help piece me back together?
If these nightmares finally come true,
and my fears and my worries
begin ripping me apart at my seams,
would you fight them off
and stitch together my heart?
If I believed what I saw in the mirror
and what my mind was whispering in my ear, and began my slow descent into the abyss of self loathing,
Would you tell me how you love me?
Your words of comfort and consolation are the remedy to the sickness of my mind, an antidote to these poisonous thoughts. I wish they were a vaccine but my mind requires the occasional reassurance.
I regret these thoughts and the weight they share in both our hearts, I don't wish to impose this noxious state of mind upon you. But even when my mind is burning,
even when I wake, gasping, in the middle of the night, when Pandora's Box is wrenched from my hands and forced open, and Hope flies out,
I swear. I swear that I'll love you. I'll love you with my rough hands, with these tired eyes. I'll love you with every last shred of my being, even in the deepest pit of self-hate.
Because you're the bottom of that pit. You don't let me fall deeper into my hate. You lift me up and you give me hope. You give me a reason to smile again.
When my life flashes before my eyes, it's a boring movie for a while, but then your image comes into the frame and everything becomes brighter and livelier.
I love you in the most irretrievable and unconditional way. I've signed off my soul and heart off to you, I have your name and your smile branded into my brain.
Everything I have and everything I am, everything I will ever be and that I will ever have, is yours. I surrender myself entirely to you, a flawed being with good intentions.
I would lay upon the very ground you walk on and be your bridge when all of them have burned down. I would carry you on my back when your legs give out from underneath you.
I would swim across oceans and fight currents to pull you closer to me, I would take a blade or a bullet or both, to prevent any harm from coming to you.
I know it may seem overwhelming to you my dear but I won't apologize for the way I've fallen for you. I'm in love with you, and there's no use in denying the truth.
So for as long as you choose to deal with my thoughts and my fears, I promise to love you and listen to you and kiss you with all of my heart and every bit of me I can.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
There's an anchor in my chest,
and although it keeps me from drowning in these nightmare sweats,
my ribs are splintered,
my heart bruised from being weighed down so much.
I get a masochistic contentment from it, though.
There's a soft happiness I get from seeing
the small reminders of you that I see throughout my day,
although they inject adrenaline through my veins
and send constrictions through my lungs.
I've stumbled upon the gap where you normally walk
and I've fallen through the space you usually occupy.
I've tried to lean against the mere thought of you
but every time I've crashed against the cruel reality,
against the stinging realization.
I've become lost in these sheets,
trying to find you in the hole of my blankets
that caresses your curves and hugs your dimension.
I wish this anchor of my love hadn't fallen at your neck,
I wish my sentiment hadn't ****** you against a wall and bound you,
and it's not in the way we'd both prefer.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
The weather is really light out; the breeze is cool but these sheets are warm
and it's overcast but not cloudy.
It's the perfect weather to wear sweatpants and tee shir-
no, actually, it's the perfect weather to wear your skin atop mine.
The perfect weather to caress your curves under these soft sheets, letting my body warm yours, letting my hands hold yours, letting my eyes drown in yours.
It's the perfect weather to coat that lovely face of yours with happy kisses and smiles.
It's the perfect weather to talk about how we'll raise Marlye
and how big or small our house will be in Bremerton.
It's the perfect weather to lie down on your stomach
and list the reasons why you make me smile.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
This is not a poem, my dear.
This...
this is more than a code comprised of 26 letters, 10 digits, and a few punctuation symbols.
What you are carrying in your hand right now is more than just a few thousand pixels presented on a glass screen, it's more than just a string of words put together in prose.
What is being graced by those lovely hands and gorgeous eyes of yours is a piece of me; this is a tangible piece of my mind, darling. I give this (and many others like it) to you as a gesture of trust and love, but I just as well give this to you with a warning. I apologize if this seems...foreboding (among other things).
Along with my love, I present this piece of me unto you irretrievably. This is no childish box or chance trinket that needs wrapping. This...this is a glass-shelled grenade, darling. But don't worry, I've secured the pin with my heart-strings. This glass is blown from the grit and salt of my tears and sweat, my burning rage fueled the furnace. Splinters of my bones form the shrapnel, and a carved piece of my ever-beating heart fuels the whole mess.
This is raw. This is crude, it's unfiltered; call me Pandora, this is my box, in a way. It holds my hope, that someone will keep this piece of me safe, that someone like you will look past the crudeness and see the sentiment behind it.
This piece of me, I don't ask of you to string it up and wear it upon your breast, I do not ask you to flaunt it and keep it close to you at all times. Lock it up, shut it away, darling. It is not beautiful, neither am I. Feel free to bury it, go ahead and put it away. It is ugly, it is dangerous. You should not caress this piece of me, it is fragile and will not provide any comfort to you. I wish unto you no harm. I ask of you to keep it safe. Protect it from my demons, save it and myself from my nightmares. I apologize for the burden I have placed upon your graceful shoulders, but your inherent strength inspires me and gives me faith. I know I ask too much of you; you have my most sincere apologies.
I've given you everything I am, I have nothing more to give you.
You are perfect, my guardian angel, I am fragile and flawed...
protect me.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
I've always told you to look at the moon dear, and blow me a kiss when you see it, because chances are, I've done the same for you. I've always found this small comfort in knowing no matter how far fate may drag us apart, we'll always share the same sky.
There are many moons in this solar system we live in, but ours is a special moon. You and I have always looked at the same side of it; I’ll always kiss the same side of the moon as you will, my dear.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
It was like we were wrenched from Morpheus' grasp and shaken, until our eyes adjusted to the harsh light and our bones stopped their clattering. We make like tea bags and steep in hot water, letting the dregs of the past day settle at our feet.
We drag our feet through the quicksand pavement and trudge through the black-tar roads to work. War is rampant in the world and in people's hearts, we see murders on screen and deceit in the streets, we're observers to the horrors of humanity. All we can do is watch with pained eyes.
Our minds are barraged with arguments and advertisements, ethics have been defenestrated, our worries overpopulated, our patience stretched thin and beaten cacophonously. Our consciousness is beaten down with pessimism, our thoughts devoid of hope.
Our souls weep at the state of things, the martyrs gather in drones at St. Peter's gates. We do good only so people will be good to us, we greet each other with half-smiles, and half-truths. At the end of the day we drag home, our consciences heavy with the burden thrown upon us.
But we meet again, we kiss, we embrace, and we join hands and strip ourselves of these mundane garments, we’re a mass of hands and skin and long sighs and worn-out smiles,
and with tired eyes, tired minds, tired souls, we slept.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
If, for every time I long to hold you in my arms, for every instance I wanted to kiss you, for every time my heart started to beat faster for you, for every night I've stayed up wanting you in my bed, for every time you've brought a smile to my face,
If each of these thoughts were flowers, this garden I walk through would be never ending.
I plant these "I love you"s in this earth I walk upon and they take root in the soil of my heart as well and grow with the permanence of a bough that has no intentions of letting anything uproot it's presence on this earth.
These flowers need the sun and I need you.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
You are an ocean
I can look at you for ages and drown in your beauty, and I stare because I don't want to lose precious seconds of being a mere observer to your raw being.
Your beauty is immense and multifaceted, it exists on the surface and pleases the average passerby, but if you were to look deeper, past the ebbs and flows of the waves, there is a hidden beauty that only a few select are allowed to see.
I fell in head first, my dear. And I'd give up my feet and grow some gills to swim in your currents if I could.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
I am a rocking-chair and I creak as I stumble into my bed and slowly pull my blankets atop me. I've spent my fair share of time splintering under the weight of worries and fears, stressing and un-stressing, and now my joints ache and my mind hurts.
A wave of relief floods through my body and I sink into this mattress, spent and worn. My thoughts, scattered as always, begin to settle like my body has.
And then the longing comes.
As I lay down, my initial exhaustion is somewhat sated, but then I turn to my side and find the hole on my bed that's shaped like you. I sigh deeply.
I begin to nod off, my exhaustion slowly taking over my desire for the mundane comfort of your skin.
The blankets move, seemingly of their own accord, and I am jolted awake, only to find you crawling into bed with me. My heart beats relief and a sleepy grin makes its way to my face as I greet you with kisses and caresses. I lay my head upon your heart and hold you close to me.
This, my dear, this is right. This is peace. Our breathing synchronized and and slow. You are beautiful and I am spent.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC