27 of 30/ 118

I keep imagining your bed.
Keep imagining you on it.
I had almost forgotten what
the heat feels like, forgotten
the unflinching passion, and the
desire for more, more, more of you,
I keep imagining you.
One layer less every time.
I keep imagining what it would
be like to be next to you, keep imagining
what our bodies could do, what we
could do, if we weren’t so far away.
Because if we weren’t, if we weren’t,
just imagine the fire between us.


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