Friday, 23 October 2015

81

When it's gone I long for it. I can hardly put into words how I pine for it. How it fits me, how it stills me. The sound of it. The smell of it. The all encompassing flow of it. How I sink in, with my head just standing proud, and move around in the sea of it. Just the thought of it. It draws me to it, I feel the pull of it. It drains me and leaves me vacant, restless. Dragging me down like a yoke necklace.

No comments:

Post a Comment