The nights are long.
Words paint themselves, the brush-strokes clear, fluid. In that reverie, there is remembrance. The heart wants what it wants.
The central feeling is intensely physical. The pull within to vanish and emerge right in front of your lover. The urgent need to hold them as close to your body as possible. The covers melt.
Itās electric. The moment skin touches another. The intense desire to be one.
Hurtled into each other, like harpoons. To pierce and to bleed. The hook makes it way deep into your being.
















