Left to my own devices with words twisting and turning their way through my brain, my thoughts turn to murmurs made on quiet evenings. It turns to thoughts of aching tenderness and madly passionate kisses. Quietly controlled force that burns with the fiery intensity it contains. The need within overwhelms all logic, draws the primal to the fore and all movements become instinctual.
And yet I have no words for the desires that lie within. Things that can be drawn out with the right touch, or the right word, the right tone of voice, or even just the right look in my direction. A shiver down the spine created. That zing between the thighs. A catch of the breath. Signs only caught by the most observant to create a story so vivid it captures the senses and dissuades time from being reality.
I've been thinking too much again.
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