Stories Scribbled on Sunday. #39

In all that lusty hot mess, you gently placed a kiss on my bare skin…

A breath that left me breathless.

And my being was left numbed of all sensations,

That kiss was all that remained,

one which was not just lust, but something felt and sensed by the soul.

A kiss that traced a mark, a mark on my memory and soul.

A beautiful scar that I till date adorn.

And I realised the difference between…

“Fuck” and “Making Love”

~Aishwarya Singh