Ripples by Angela Thomas If this was years ago, I would have called you into my arms and I would have wound them around. I may have taken off my clothes, and stood shivering in the light before lowering myself down, closer to you. I would have taken what I wanted without even a thought and given you everything you'd ever dreamed of at the same time. But, no, I am not that naive anymore, I am hardened, cold, and distant. I speak of experience with a foriegn look and never a tear, it's a story that I tell, not something that I allow to hurt me still. Only, of course it does. You trail your hand along my back, pausing in the ripples grown with age and laziness, causing me to arch and ache, wanting to feel you. I sigh, it's the most expression I have to tell you to feel me, there, in a place that, when I am sober is guarded and kept secret from hands with electricity, like yours. If I were more naive, not so aged, I would have taken what I wanted. Instead, I'll just have to survive with those hands. 02/03/2004 Posted on 02/04/2004 Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)