Saturday, February 26, 2011

hurried fashion

She makes love with her voice, her lips barely touching the microphone as she sings.

Her eyes closed, she bursts her soul out through every pore of her being, the seams of her body widening, stretching.

I feel her in the core of me, her deep viscosity seeping down my bones.

We find each other through the crowds of people and intertwine ourselves around each other, damp, sweaty, full of passion.

We both peak at the same instant as she screams out her last notes and I exhale slowly, quietly smiling.

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