Saturday, December 25, 2010

Brooms Aren't Just For Sweeping, My Dear

Sometimes she forgets the feeling of sweaty, nervous palms. And fingers laced together, hidden underneath the safe haven of a blanket. She forgets the intoxication of a passionate kiss. And the warmth of an arm resting on her own. Sometimes she forgets the intricate entwining of legs, effervescing that strong sense of comfort. She forgets deep stares and the heat rising to her face, flushing her cheekbones with brilliant color. Sometimes she forgets the sweet scent left on her pillow. And the smile raging war against her lips when she thinks about it all.

But, she does remember one thing. It starts with the quickening of her heartbeat.

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