your voice was the songi was thinking ofwhile we made love.the neighbors told usto turn the music downbut we were at the partwhen the chorusdoubles back into itselfagain and again,just to make surewe felt it the first time.the sound our lipsmake while touching,sweat drippingoff my browfinding rhythm,the moon's lightat your collarbone,as our bodiesdanced insidea beating drum
soft clarity, very nice...
love the metaphor...and i particularly dig the rhythm that you maintained throughout the piece**************************************http://selewa.etsy.com << the jewelryhttp://www.facebook.com/selewahttp://honeyontheroad.wordpress.com <<the gambia blog
this was pleasant, passionate, and well worth the read...------------------------------blog|browse|buyhttp://itsallrelative.blogetery.comhttp://www.formspring.me/mindfulhttp://www.lulu.com/content/7598631
like the way metaphors dictate the pace of this, nice one . . {}smoke cigars cuban large-xxx
they showed us phYsically, we could reach infinitY, but mentally, through the century, we lost our identitY-Rakim