His voice in my ear, the words don't matter if he says my name. And he always knows when to say my name. His smile, in my eyes even when I close them. My arm over the side of the couch, back arched across the cushions. His lips on my neck, my leg snaked about his. His smell, warmth, breath, and feel fill a dozen different scenes that play out in my head as I go through the day. I look at his picture and listen to a few words of his and my mind paints a bigger picture.
Is obsession weakness?
M.
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