Stepping up behind your friend’s sofa, I put my hands on your shoulders, sliding them down over your collarbones, slowly down to your breasts. My left hand moves across, then up to your neck, under your chin, and I tilt your head back, your face up to mine. 451 more words
Tags » Come
I run past trees with limbs still winter-bare, each twig curled upward, reaching for heaven.
Some days you can reach and other days your limbs are limp and the longing gone and how then do you find the strength to lift the bare twigs of your soul heavenward? 882 more words