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|Imprinted: 10/11/2004 - 3:11 AM |
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tucked neatly in the swirls mingled in the oils of the skin on the end of your fingers is the memory of every touch the fullness of lips the softness of hair the texture of flesh the rise of breath the shiver of anticipation's reward the weight of my heart and how it must have felt to crush it. |
Job Opening, Likely Temp Work - 11/30/2005 Damn It - 10/08/2005 True Words For Too Many - 10/07/2005 A Drop of Golden Sun - 10/07/2005 Fraud - 10/01/2005 |