Rough

I miss the touch. That rough touch.

You always gave me more than I needed, and yet, I always wanted more.

I wanted more from us! I wanted more than our bed.

I pant and relive every inch of that bed.

Rolling over, we would meet eye-to-eye.

You grab the back of my neck.

Pull me close, to kiss my panting mouth.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, I can still feel your mouth on mine…

You would grab my hips, pulling me closer, making me squeal with anticipation.

I think that’s what I miss the most…

I miss the moment right before the moment…

before the rough!

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