Damned these always conscious decisions of complexity. Never risking to experience a want or a need. I need your words. Your violent guise. Your graceful touch. The cold and warm air colliding to create a tornado in our souls. I need our bones on bones. Chattering and clacking under the moon in a passionate release of a decades long tension. Interlocking like puzzle pieces, bones make for comfort. I need to feel your scorched earth beneath my feet as we fuel the flames to the ethereal plane. Gasping for our signs, grasping for stability in our palpatating struggle against this world. I need our bones against bones.
Bones on Bones
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