“It’s almost like…like you’re tasting every word before you let it come out of your mouth.“
I am.
When I am inspired, I let words filter through my mental fingers like grains of sand, sifting them against my palm, feeling the weight of them. My will becomes the pivot upon which rests the balance of my desire.
I write sins for you the way hymns are written for the faithful.
—
You will give yourself to me
cross the threshold of my gaze
and believe.
You write sins for me, darlin’, oh yes you do. And as a Deacon’s Daughter, I knew a thing ro two about sins.*blush* Do you travel at night and spy on me? Watch us all? Sometimes, I think I’m going to answer the phone and it’ll be you on the other end…but you will never let me know.
xx.
Melanie
Beauty in just a few sentences.
-pc
“cross the threshold of my gaze”
that right there is the -exact- moment… of submitting. *sighs softly*
You do have a way with words, love.
They make me believe.
I’d sing your sinful praises right back at you.
Why indeed ~ write those sins.. oh how I know how to sing.. ever so sweetly.
Then i have this image of my mind being sifted by your fingers.. your hands in my brain..
interesting.. very
Too late. Did that already.