For as long as I can remember words have been my solace. My safe place was in the gaps between the letters. I wanted to be wrapped in the embrace of ink and paper, drifting in the harmony of a story. Then my relationship with words changed, deepened. I wanted to create that solace for…

It hurts, this wanting you. Wanting to feel the sting as you fist your hands in my hair. Wanting the firm press of your lips on mine. The slick glide of tongue against tongue. Wanting to feel the scrape of your teeth against the sensitive skin of my throat. Gods, wanting the melting pain as…

There is a tension pulling tight against the edges of my being, this trapped stretch in the expanse of my skin. I can feel it in the shudder of my breath, in the tempo of my pulse. This need bleeds into my thoughts, my emotions, my words. It rides high in my chest and claws…