What do you do when you’re drawn to the do?
When somehow, somewhere, by someone, there’s
nothing that’s left that’s not been done before?
I mean, what’s there to be afraid of, except,
And yes, I know you’re tired, of course you are.
But you’re also all aflutter from the naughty
you’ve discovered, I can hear your pulse
pounding in your desire. But scratch all you
want dear, there’s more than warm blood welling
up from the bottom of this one. And speaking of
heat, I can see that you left the door open
when you went your way home, and curiously
that’s making the temperature rise even more—
it must be that bridge burning beneath your feet.
Thank you for reading Will. I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain, and as always, I look forward to your comments.
The photograph was taken in Sedona, Arizona, along…
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