I still have that skin crawling sensation when I’m amongst
your midst. The sensation would be
described as lips touching skin. Imagine
hairs, on the back neck that grow ever so slightly, calculating like finger
nails; that are that exposed when caressed by the subtleties of a hand. The Sensation
of the neck being touched with moisture, that protrudes from breath that begins
to swelter, and affixing itself when a mindful breath that fogs the skin as if
it was glass. The suspense begins by building a means of condensation, through
the multitude use of a kissing touch.
I’ve been asked countless times too turn on the fan. Dialing on the fan with a few clicks it
protrudes and omits the noises in the atmosphere so that your mindful conscious
may rest.
I want that place again… I would feel at peace starring at you with either a glancing
eye or into your form, being lit by any background landscape that hints at being
a shadow. Sitting amongst you,
find that beautiful smile that glows, and persists through your eyes when it
looks as if you’re surprised by some feeling inside.
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