Sitting here on a random Wednesday, I recall details of encounters, secret kisses, and touches that created fire. I am thinking of sweat, musk, sighs, and touches. Rumpled bed sheets and pillows askew, a lukewarm vodka coke sits forgotten on the bedside table. Possessive fingers roam free. Tongues taste sweat. And for a hot couple of hours, reality has been forgotten.
A body remembers forgotten feelings and begins to crave the intimacy of another. Why did I not realise that fires, once ignited, are hard to put out? Just a little bit of oxygen is enough to fan those embers.
We are such weak creatures. We have been humbled.
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