That slow, exquisite sensation of touch was heaven.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
That slow, exquisite sensation of touch was heaven.
This is one of those moments when you have to slow down and be quiet.
I am coming to life in the lovely universe. Believe me, a slow, spiritual, extraordinary change is going to show in me.
We drift in eternal space. A slow progression, a ghostly limbo. Light and darkness over water.
Youth lingered, then walked away, slow and quiet no sign of life.
That strange, slow drift apart creeping and intangible. It's gradual, but you know, the relationship is undead. Tottering forward without warmth, or soul, or pulse.
Love is a kind of fever, slow and consuming.