Tuesday, October 4, 2011

The gaping hole in my chest slips between his fingers as my heart gushes with smoldering fantasies. My mind full of thoughts crowded, one on top of the other, silent to the outside world, heard only by me and that gushing hole left in my chest.
The air between us stings, sour with intentions, and meant to be's. I can almost taste his need for me, fleeting yet constant, like silk gliding over skin.
Trying to grip the substances, they elude him as he gropes for something he can't see.

1 comment:

Advizor54 said...

"sour with intentions....."

What a well captured feeling, though it breaks my heart to hear you say it.