This Can't Be How It Ends
No big argument. No dramatic encounter. Just radio silence.
It's been nine days since I last felt your lips on mine. It was passionate and greedy. I always admired the way you kissed me, as if it was never enough.
It's been nine days since I felt your touch. It was demanding and hypnotic. I melted under your grasp. I moved with you as one body while crooning in your ear. You growled into my neck as you collapsed into me and we finished together. We lay there, exhausted, legs tangled. You touched me again. It was softer and warmer. You caressed me while I traced my fingertips lightly across your arm that lay over my side. I drift off to sleep in the security of your arms.
It's been nine days since I last heard your voice. It's been dancing on a loop in my head.
About the Creator
Lindsay Ragsdale
My three personality traits: hopeless romantic, cry baby, and dumb bitch.
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