Sigh. Fingers - traveling, roaming - It’s almost three. Some intertwined with yours, others wanting to break free. Sigh. With your heat against my lips and their fire against my back, I’m torn between lust and wanderlust, barreling down a wet, slippery not-so-careful track. Sigh. As this moment together tumbles into the spell of a lifetime, I finally rest my head against the heart of your scars and realize now why magic is so quiet. ~N.V.