Burning desire comes and goes
Cravings return immediately Instant comfort, warmth Secured tightly, enveloped within you Silent whispers Hearts pound faster Fingers fiddle in his hair He twirls mine Unexpected kisses-one fluid motion Bliss
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They say time heals all wounds. Time also finds the same knife and cuts open the fresh scar.
Tell me why in a crowded room I still find you . . .
You gave chase. I let you run. As I started to slow my pace, you retreated. Leaving me to fall on the cold concrete.
Her lips were stained with coffee; her kiss so bittersweet.
I might forget your grandma's first name or the date we started talking, but I promise you I'll remember all the small details. I'll remember the place you first kissed me and the time you told me you were afraid of spiders. I'll remember how you like your eggs and the reason you sleep on the couch most nights. But now I'll wonder if you went to McDonald's in town or the one 45 minutes away. I'll wonder if you think of me like I think of you or if the feelings you told me about while drinking the cider was the truth or just a drunken slur.
He caught my eye. By purposeful accident, he had my attention. His cheeks were dotted with freckles and his crooked smile enticed me. He had the kind of eyes that drew you in─the kind you knew saw deep into your soul. His voice was a raspy silk that snapped me from anywhere to him. Even in his strength, his touch was gentle. He was home to me. There was no place I felt safer. No place I felt that I believed that I belonged more than next to him. The warmth I felt when I was with him was something I could bathe in. Until one day I realized that the water had turned icy. His touch was more like a hammer. It was utter silence in my presence. He became distant─his eyes now empty with disgrace. I was homeless.
When he looked at her, you knew that was a face he loved. His eyes brightened and his mouth turned up on either side.
The morning light glints off the yellow wallpaper. I brush the sand out of my eyes as he, even in morning breath, plants one on me. We sing and dance around the kitchen only stopping to flip the bread toasting on the stovetop. The smell of burnt toast roams the house but we eat uncaring anyway.
She began to understand what it was. She exuded happiness and laughter around others but darkness crept in when she found herself alone. She understands the expression much more now because it's more than an expression . . . it's a feeling.
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Ariel Wolfeself-proclaimed writersomewhat avid reader
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