You know how it is guys, you go day after day, month after month and you just want
to taste a peach instead of an orange, even if you are a mate to that orange.
Ahhh, fresh ripe peach, consenting no less, cute with a flirt
that just won't stop running through my mind.
The curve of her lip, the twinkle in her eye. And then it hits you
get a whiff of her fresh oneness. There it is fresh peach,
her existential oneness, a goal forms from the fog of my mind,
accomplice? The words mean little, eyes,blood pressure even trifles dilate,for both.
Silence,touch... fusion... ne plus ultra... La petite mort!!!
Both focus on the spenders of how your bodies correspond.
the throbing subsides, we go back to the yearning place.
It takes more than good
to have good memories.
careful what you wish