By Carly Powell
Shivering; inducing traces of excitement cover legs, arms, and neck. Hot with nerves, the body is confused as anxiety pulses through veins. Something to grab hold of, something to make the falling feeling that so often awakes you from a light sleep subside. Smooth to the touch, relief works its way through fingertips. Coarse to kiss, steal one more from the corner of his lips. A tight grip on fantasy lets gravity and reality slip away. How many minutes or hours or days? The grip gets tighter over broad and strong shoulder blades as the falling feeling tries to take you. Desperate, pull him closer, one last rough kiss, it’s over.
The Abington Review Volume 13 