Forgive me, I like my quiet days, a little too much. The ones with the books, the pillows...the coffee and socks, and the odd bout of rain. I like to settle down, with an old show marathon, and let the world down the drain. When happenstance, gives you that once in a blue-moon-chance, to put your phone mostly on silent, for the better part of a week. And the chocolate you saved, for just such an occasion, is twice as sweet. I like the days of mundane tasks, without the focus, on the rings or the whistles. And the smell, of ink and parchment, the click of keys with the certainty that, they're not being pressed to chat, with anyone, it tickles. Forgive me, I like my quiet days, it's a bit of a mood. Between the new-blooming flowers, and the soft of the hours, there's nothing as good.
your lips are magnetic, drawing me in. I listen to your stories drink up every sigh and whisper feeling my fingertips tingling I want to trace your words from the air to your mouth feel your tongue on my fingerprints, exhale a breath I hold - hold me, I want the warmth of your skin, drawing me in. your lips are magnetic and mine are the opposite pole