Your scent lingers on my skin. I'm helpless. Sitting on the edge of the bed you sing to me, your fingers brush the guitar strings. I watch, my eyes tracing the guitar, your hands, your arms, your neck. They land on your lips where they linger before meeting up with your grey eyes. I smile, the bittersweet song slips from my lips.
To be continued... when im not about to pass out from sleep deprivation.
1 comment:
How much thought have you given to the cadence of the work? The second sentence is especially resonant.
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