4 thoughts on “the delicate, yet beautiful, neck of writing”

  1. How I miss the feeling, the slowly growing pressure of fingers – gentle at first, stroking me like a kitten into a state of complacency – wrapping around my throat. In that moment, that first instance of panic, I watch myself struggle, resist, but know I want to you right where you are – at my throat.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.