Softly. The thoughts of you come softly towards me, humming familiar secrets to my subconscious, like a lullaby for my wounded being. It dances and seduces, like the candles’ flames across the room, both threatening and encouraging the shadows. The recollection of your fingers is burned into my skin’s affections, and my fingers trace the paths yours once carved into my memory and desire. When I’m quiet, when I’m sensual, when I’m pensive, when I’m alone, when I’m in love, thoughts of you come softly toward me…
Against the Grain
April 26, 2011 by Jessica Lark
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