witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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It's a tepid kind of romance. My heart doesn't clench, nor sink, nor shiver when I think or speak your name.
It sits still and quiet, beating its same steady beat. And when I'm most content, it even slows down.

But I like when you kiss the tops of my shoulders. Right behind my ear. My cheek. My collar bone. The tip of my finger. The edge of my knuckle.

And you aren't a selfish kind of lover. The only time the still waters rise to tides are between the sheets.

I've never had something like this. I never even knew I could.

4:15 p.m. - Friday, Oct. 08, 2010

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