11.28.22 // Palo Santo and Sagebrush

I can feel you.
.
Your energy around me is electric like the static in the air before a storm.
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It's impossible to keep myself from being lured in.
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But, let's be honest, I'm not really stopping myself.
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I let the lure seep into my bones and I let the language of your being and your essence speak sweet nothings to me. I don't just let it, I seek it. Yearning to understand the language I was never fluent in...
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The way you smell like the desert.
.
Palo Santo and sagebrush on a dusty breeze. Soft and sultry, sweat beads slowly form and draw down your neck, leaving traces of white against sun-kissed skin.
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The way you smile like the sun.
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Bright and blinding if I stand too close but unable to keep myself away from its life-giving kiss. I stare up at it with reverence, basking in the glow as if I could never know darkness like I know this light.
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I can feel you, and I think you can feel me too.
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Your smell of vast desert plains plays against the smell of my thin mountain air.
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Your smile of the sun plays against my smile of the soft silvery moon.
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We push and pull and speak tongues the other can't understand and I think that's why we crave, lust, and love.