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“The warmth of his skin was familiar. Languid, I could drift for hours on the ocean of his flesh. Eyes gazed down at me, so kind and friendly. Like frosty windows on a cabin with a wood stove. These were the things I dreamed about. The things I was reminded of. The things I thought of at long stoplights while listening to S. Carey. This was what my being ached for…”

~Taylor Rhodes, Sixteenth Notes: The Breaking of the Rose-Colored Glasses

Image: “The Science of Missing You”   Stasia B.
 http://www.stasiab.etsy.com

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