the lovers fell into one another’s arms every night their bodies rumbling like thunder as
the lovers fell into one another’s arms every night their bodies rumbling like thunder as they rolled together making love for them was less an indication of passion or need it was a holy and sacred communion they shared offering their love upon the alter night after night morning after morning day in and out for years the beauty of it the same the ritual just as beautiful each time they reached for one another clung to the other’s body responding as much to the rising tide in their own body as much as the need in their lover’s and as the morning light filtered into their window kissing gently before worshiping one another again then continuing their day Now, it was different. The lovers were apart. Nothing was more striking then the morning. When he woke and reached for his love. And found his side of the bed. Strangely empty. And cold. It was not “their” bed. It was was a void lackluster hotel room. Which starkly contrasted to their colorful loving bedroom. That he loved and missed so much. But what he missed more than their room. Or their worship each morning and night. Was the molding of her skin against his. And her scent. so he turned over and gazed at himself in the mirror knowing at this moment she was doing the same thing for him and craving him as fiercely and loving him just as much ~ © 2010 Salacious Musings ~ With much love and respect to Mr. and Mrs. E -- source link