Morning After #9: Writing is Like Sex
Last night, it dawned on me.
Cloudy, dazed, and tired, I heard light music playing in the background. It was too faint to peg the song, but with one open eye, I saw a long, naked leg splayed out to the left. I touched it and instantly felt a sensation tickle my nervous system. Shit, that’s my leg.
Heat does that, you know? Makes one leg hang off the bed, dying for air, needing relief. It screams to the rest of your body, “Get me the hell outta here!” It’s that type of warmth that made me realize another body was next to me…
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