Sunday, April 16, 2006


Her heart beats against mine.

I am enraptured by her heat.

I am intoxicated by the smell of her hair; the flow of it across my brow is mesmerizing.

Smooth sweaty hot.

The pulse quickens.

Her breath upon my ear is hurried.

I am one with her word:



Bret said...

I wanted to read the rest of your post, but it started getting all squiggly and all I could get was the audio. Pity.

Foo said...

Dude... if your enchilada's got hair enough to smell, send it back. Really.

Antique Mommy said...

Hadn't heard it called an enchilada before.