We burn out, swerving past flocks of sheets, speed is not a factor here as we race need interjecting lips, fingers double clutch turning my gears rigid; my skin flush. Twice we slammed the brakes, but my engine seethes
for that rumbling big block to take the lead revving it harder with fuel left to feed this lust spinning us out of control. Hutched, we burn out, swerving past
pillow rails and blanket blockades. Recede to different positions, side-swiping greed for that finishing adrenaline rush as we inch closer and closer to much more than pink slips perfumed with a love creed. Together, you, my speed, I, you’re need, we burn out, swerving past.
Lovers Never Tell · Sun Jan 04, 2009 @ 10:59am · 0 Comments |