Love letter # 143

I wish you didn’t tempt me so – didn’t stand there like that. Or shoot that smile, shine those conspiratorial eyes. Sometimes you lay your hand upon me and all my nerves are music, singing the electric song of you.

Don’t say you don’t mean it. I know you do. You like the smell of burning flesh. I like the feel. We could make this all happen in a blaze of surrender – you could just touch the trigger. From there it’s just momentum.

Some days I wonder what we could fashion from all this desire of ours. Other days I think I’m dreaming it. Even so, I walk beside you and all the atoms between us fizz with pent up charge. My mouth is dry, my breath is short – and I have to summon all my will not to reach across the centimetres and set the whole universe on fire.

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