Vast, perfumed clouds steam from below Moist delicious oceans flowing as wine. A deep breath devours an eternity of yesterdays. Fever melts every kiss into the folds of time.
Wild fire drinks any question of denial, Broken rhythm slows to honey sweetness. Lingering softly on porcelain skin, Desire fumbles blindly with each warm caress.
I have always had a fascination with language and the written word but I am plagued by the question : can I call myself a writer if I can't find the right words? That's what I'm here to find out.