(no subject)
I don't know what it is about her, but I find Amanda extremely sexually attractive...
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what i wanted
What I wanted when you pressed yourself against the wall, when I reached my hand up to squash down your wild-child hair and mark your passage through household history in that whitewashed corner, was to kiss you. To mark your passage through my history with a fine line of lead-heavy kisses. To scrawl your name across my flesh with the burn of your thick fingertips.
To brand myself touched. Permanently changed. Done and undone and redone by you.
What I wanted was to leave my mark and measure on the walls of you, down the hallways of your spirit and the rooms inside your mind -- to drop my coin down the well of you and hear it clatter against your rough edges until it lands with a wet, heavy thunk in the core of you, to sit for always as a part of your history. A wish made and granted once inside a kiss.
the thing of it is, i liked the way you felt there. My hands smelled like your skin. Even those precious few touches found me saturated, marked like your territory.
with my arm around you, it’s too intense. with my fingers in your wild hair, smoothing it back from your head, it’s too intense. you always want my hands on you. i always want my hands on you. but i held back because i always do with you, because these things cannot always be said, because timing is as timing does...and time is taking its sweet, sweet time
but i liked the way you felt there, the weight of you against me. i feel you dense and thick like fog and darkness, pin-pricked by the light of mischief that crowds your eyes.
you are especially beautiful from above. your dark lashes, your sweet freckles, your nose and the full, graceful curves of your lips... i saw you softly today - so often i see you strong and sturdy. today i saw you gentle and sweet and womanly and beautiful. i wanted to trace your outlines with my fingertips and map your finest details to my memory. but instead, i rose to leave and left indeed.
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what i wanted
What I wanted when you pressed yourself against the wall, when I reached my hand up to squash down your wild-child hair and mark your passage through household history in that whitewashed corner, was to kiss you. To mark your passage through my history with a fine line of lead-heavy kisses. To scrawl your name across my flesh with the burn of your thick fingertips.
To brand myself touched. Permanently changed. Done and undone and redone by you.
What I wanted was to leave my mark and measure on the walls of you, down the hallways of your spirit and the rooms inside your mind -- to drop my coin down the well of you and hear it clatter against your rough edges until it lands with a wet, heavy thunk in the core of you, to sit for always as a part of your history. A wish made and granted once inside a kiss.
the thing of it is, i liked the way you felt there. My hands smelled like your skin. Even those precious few touches found me saturated, marked like your territory.
with my arm around you, it’s too intense. with my fingers in your wild hair, smoothing it back from your head, it’s too intense. you always want my hands on you. i always want my hands on you. but i held back because i always do with you, because these things cannot always be said, because timing is as timing does...and time is taking its sweet, sweet time
but i liked the way you felt there, the weight of you against me. i feel you dense and thick like fog and darkness, pin-pricked by the light of mischief that crowds your eyes.
you are especially beautiful from above. your dark lashes, your sweet freckles, your nose and the full, graceful curves of your lips... i saw you softly today - so often i see you strong and sturdy. today i saw you gentle and sweet and womanly and beautiful. i wanted to trace your outlines with my fingertips and map your finest details to my memory. but instead, i rose to leave and left indeed.
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