Monday, August 18, 2008

You, Fragmented

All I can (and want to) think of is the tug of your fingers running through my hair. The tickle of your warm sighs in my ear. Your shadow rising over me, and then! The taste of my own hammering heart heavy in my mouth.

More than anything I miss the sharp, clean scent of you that clings to my clothes long after you are gone.
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