I want your hand without the skin. Bone to bone without the molds. Mouth to mouth, without the porn.
Now he was nothing to her, just a lesson in time, a wicked boy-man, incapable of wealth or prestige.
I near felt bad he choose to be so evil to me. I am a forgiving woman, but my pen... oh my wicked wicked hormonal she-pen.
Color me....BRILLIANT.
Elegant writers depict intricacy with simplicity.
But every spiteful word she ever wrote him was effortless love clenched in her fists. Her heart screaming for stability in this fiery game of desire.
She wanted to write to him. Tell him she was glad he was back, that he was alive, that he was home and safe. But words to him no longer fit right in her her mouth.Words which belonged in his ownership...
She had missed him so long now, that the feeling had become a part of her. As each day passed, the missing distanced itself from her heart. One day she woke, and realized the missing was there but the...
My lips are fierce with passion. My heart spins fiery beats. A rhythm lives within my fingers and dances in my feet.
You cannot mistake thisYou cannot reinvent this moment You cannot call this loveIt is so much more
The world I held so closely, she played me like a game,I released and left her laughing to stand on my own two feet.
Time to get a go on this drop-dead-gorgeous morning.