Touch has a memory.
~ John Keats
The memory of your touch lingers, the softness of your skin, the gentleness of your touch as your fingers traced the curves of my body, the roundness of your nails causing shivers to run through me, goosebumps forming wherever you have been.
The warmth of your breath against naked skin, the coolness of your tongue as it trails, following the path that your fingers traced only moments before.
You take me to the moment where I feel nothing but your mouth on my skin. I see nothing but you. I feel nothing but you. I hear nothing but the sound of you calling my name, whispering gently, begging and pleading.
Touch has a memory.
Time flies.
And yet sometimes it is impossible to know just where it has flown to . . .or how . . .or when. Some days it is like life passes by in one long blur, rushing from one place to another, one task to another, and yet, very little to show for that time or how it has been spent.
Time flies.
And yet I wish that there was a way, just to slow it down, to stop the clock for just a moment to find the time to relish in those wonderful and precious moments. To take each hour, each minute or each second and make it last for so much longer . . .making those wonderful moments last for eternity. Except we can't and then those moments get lost and they drown under the waves of the daily grind and the rushing around. And it is sad for those moments cannot be recaptured, they cannot be lived again, instead we have to treasure them, when they happen. Treasure the memories that we have of them.
Time flies.
And yet, I cannot believe how long ago some things have been. Of how some "time out" can become weeks, if not months before we know it. And then, it always seems so much harder to get back into things . . .we fall into a new routine, a new life, and maybe it isn't harder to go back, it's just easier for things to be the way they are.
Whatever it is. I know this much . . . time flies.
