It may that in a difficult hour, pinned down by pain and moaning for release, or nagged by want past resolutions power, I might be driven to sell your love for peace, or trade the memory of this night for food. It may be. I do not think I would.
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Where She Went ≈johnsonn26≈
RandomMy first impulse is not to grab her or kiss her or yell at her. I simply want to touch her cheek still flushed from last nights performance. I want to cut through the space that separates us, measured in feet not miles, not continents, not years, an...
