This is not a story of a love affair
Sunday, September 14, 2014 • 10:51 PM
I remember the way that Pierre and Yves kissed for the first time and I know I want to be kissed that way: recklessly and by a river.
I crave touch-- to be able to remember the scent of your skin.
I have memorised the scent of the detergent of your clothes and every time I walk past the aisle of household cleaning liquids at the supermarket I feel an ache, low and deep in my gut for you.
But this is all happening in my head and it is 10.46 p.m. now.
So I stay up late instead, hoping that the night will conspire with me to cheat time and make it slow down.
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