Poetry was the smoke-filled air that made his chest ache, velvet were the sheets that could not house enough warmth on the chilled night but, somehow,...were more than enough to make his arms slick with the slightest sheen of sweat. The girders that made him were not undone by Her but by his willingness to accept the healing Love could gift. Such is the essence of all creation. These are the rules. The shifting from one song to another brought him to the present smoothly, the memory brought both. Mostly, she wore a tattered pair of Hollister sweat pants that now seemed like the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Hearing the word “fuck” come from those wonderful lips only made things worse for me. I started thinking about what a guy could do with lips like that and realized I had once again drifted off, and she was waiting for me to say something. I had an idea, I would let her drive this train.“OK, first let me ask you a few questions- Why weren't you at choir practice today? What were you. More

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