I want so much for you to lose yourself in the scent of my skin, for bruises to appear in the shapes of your fingerprints on my hips, and clasped around my wrist like a tender charm bracelet. I want you to be eaten alive by the passion held between our bodies, absorbed in the roll of breath from my lungs the way I am nothing without the taste of your lips. I want the raw hunger that used to swallow us whole in the back of your station wagon in the middle of the night; held against your flesh with our clothes lost in the darkness and all thoughts of the outer world blotted out with the steam clouding the windows.

The End

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