Strings and fingertips.

I lost myself once in a dark room with covered windows and familiar pillows…and it always seemed like the most important things we ever said we’re things that were spoken three inches from each others face. Why that seemed important to me I will never know, I only find it as a constant reminder of how penetrating intimacy can be on a level that only exists behind closed doors.

How we soon forget, to let it pass and quit reminding ourselves of what things like that ever meant.

Advertisements

Comments are closed.