~ CASIMIR ~
The desperation in me to pull her closer, to touch every inch of her skin, to taste her mouth, her skin, her neck, her shoulder… there weren't enough moments, there wasn't enough breath, there could never be enough.
I took her face in my hands and pulled her head back, opening my mouth on her throat and whispering her name against her skin as she arched and sobbed my name.
For a time, I couldn't see with my eyes, only with my mind-the very first times I'd touched her, my heart so closed and guarded, yet my body needing. And now as I ached for her and my mind flashed on all those touches, all that instruction, all the ways I'd tried to condition her for my use, I begged God to take us back-take me back to that first time. So I could worship her. Love her. Give.
The more I needed, and the more she called for me, the more I grieved my own stupidity and blindness-and the deeper and wider my love grew.