Blogging · Fiction



I’ll never forget the feeling of running my fingers through your hair.


Some people aim for endless nights of lust and sex…

Some people want fame and recognition…

Some want wealth, and all the luxuries it allows…


I just needed to rub a little bit of me on you. A silly connection. Not even a perfume leftover that “she” could have blamed you for wearing.

Tomorrow, it’ll be gone.

But I’ll know that you will have worn a few of my cells on the nape of your neck, over night.

Washed away with the morning’s shower.

Pathetic attempt to leave a trace behind me….


2 thoughts on “Frisson…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s