The taste of smoke on your tongue.
The smell of rain clinging to your skin.
Droplets fall from your soaking hair,
falling onto soft skin.
I breathe you in,
the smell of home.
I grab a towel and you fall to the floor,
finding the space between my thighs as I pat you dry.
Soft smile, soft touches, soft looks.
You turn your head, a soft kiss brushing against my skin.
A tingle left behind, burning a memory into me.
We fall asleep tangled in each others limbs.
When I wake, the smell of you still lingers.
The imprint of your shape still in my mattress.
You are a home I do not live in.
Gentle love that is not mine to keep.
A silent goodbye.
An empty house.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
Non-Fictionas the title suggests, this is legit going to be my diary. and yes, most diaries are supposed to be secret, but I have always been an open book. I like to pretend to be mysterious, but the people around me will all tell you that I am am someone who...
