czarress

Sitting here, with czaress of the transient old age, skin so begs to have fingers run across it and hair that falls across her eyes, I smile belly smiles and reach out imaginary arms to touch her, then real ones: pull her against me and feel my breath move to the rhythm of hers.

Morning comes early and we are watching.


2005-07-31 | 4:32 p.m.
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