In My Arms

I can still smell her body oil on my fingertips, a delicate aroma filled with flowers & citrus.
I can still taste her lips, a sweet sheen of raspberry gloss that left a lingering aftertaste on my tongue.
I can still see her mischievous smile, her lips spread over perfect white teeth even though she was a smoker.
I can still feel her body, pressed up against me with nothing on & our arms wrapped around each other.
She lays there in my arms and nothing is important. Nothing is more dear. I have her all to myself & that is all I need or want.
She says the things I need to hear. She tells me these things are true. Of all the things she whispers to me I only hear a few.
The heat from our bodies begins to rise again, our hands begin to move. We fall into a familiar rhythm that same animalistic groove.
Our bodies reacting on their own now, we lose ourselves in the greatest of ways. Each minute turns into hours and then followed by several days.

That was a special weekend. She was in my arms…

View this story's 5 comments.