- Books, Literature, and Writing
I want him to stop, look deep into my being. And see me. Validate my existence and his.
And our love.
With his words I want truth and knowing. I long to hear truths from his tongue.
I long to feel devotion to his skin. Devotion from his skin.
I long to be awakened by his presence. Penetrated by his awareness.
Smoke is my scent. Smoke from a slow burning fire in the winter. It speaks something to me.
I can hear it yet cannot make out it's tongue- foreign to me while still familiar.
It's home. More than anything I've ever known. Or perhaps haven't known for some time.
I long for it the way I long for his truth and presence.