If I may be so bold
as to interrupt the sanctity of the post-coital cocoon of silence,
I must say this moment is something I have become accustomed to craving.
This time the happiness has overwhelmed me to the point of silence.
There isn't much these days that stir my soul the same way your touch can.
It's as if your hug is my straight jacket on my worst of days.
My lips cracked and dry,
thirsting for connection.
For someone, anyone to understand me on my level.
"He gets me..."
What a tall drink of water those words are.
How satisfying it is to wet my whistle with such deep appreciation;
curling up in the curve of my lips.
A tangle of arms and legs.
Ears searching for breath sounds to ensure the other survived the whirlpool
of simultaneous surrender and combustion;
of the push and pull of animal magnetism.
You sir, have calmed my calamity.
~ Cynicallovebird ~
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