Hide and Seek

It creeps up on you.   Like a cold wind up your spine.   Like a fever that consumes you, body and soul.

It’s an emotion.  Better than that, it’s my favorite sin.   Lust.

Pretending is not an option.  Try as I might, I can’t help my staring.  The grace of your design bewilders me.   The heat of your body near gnaws at my skin.   I am only half awake as you speak.  Instead I imagine you touching me touching you, my lips upon you.   And I shake it off.  The world snaps back into focus just as you finish your lines.   But it doesn’t last.  Never does.

I hate it.  The way you’re in my head.  That hot, nervous feeling like a hungry school boy.   I could peel your second skin like a grape.  A layer at a time.  Kissing your neck.  Your shoulder your back.  A piece at a time.  Getting to the bottom of it all, and finding you bare and at bottom.  We could tear into each other.  We could play hide and seek.

The thought keeps rolling around in my mind like a hurricane.  It wants to get out.  And inside, I wonder if you’re thinking the same things.  Do you hunger?  Is there an ache, an itch, a burning inside you?

What’s your favorite sin?

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