When Thank You is Never Enough intimate

I have imagined what it would be like to kiss your lips; and only yours. Caress your body; burying my head into your neck so that all that looked upon grew envious. There was no shortage of the types of riots we caused from jealous men and women plotting to break us apart.

I quite enjoyed the fairytale. Not as much as actually holding you at night and listening to you snore, the wrought across your face when you studied, the laughter at my silliness being welcomed, the confusion from my lapse of memory at important things, having your body quiver only for a moment, but seeming to know still that I was there. Kissing your lips again and again before I would leave, not sure when next our lips would meet.

photo by Maria Ovchinnikova

Anderson Aries