I looked at my wrist, as soon as you left, and there were three very clear bite marks. I think I made them myself, but couldn’t remember how. What I do remember, as clearly as the marks, is your taste, your skin against mine, feeling it heat up under the sheets, your smell left on my hands, the wet feeling of in and out, the thought that I could stay in that state of quiet flux forever.
I have this silly smile that keeps coming back to my lips. I almost left the red undies decorating the TV as a permanent souvenir.
Aphrodite-Reads 