Blue Eyes and White Lies

A writer, lover, thinker, and midwestern, book-loving sexpot.


6 Comments

Memory

handsome

His scent lingered on my skin. I held my hand to my nose and breathed him in. Burning candles were the only remains of our second date. That, and of course, that smell. Thick and strong, like flesh and iron and blood. Raw. Visceral. I closed my eyes and thought of him, letting my imagination take care of the rest.