Gone

Each night was a torture, one which left traces of wetness between her opening. Each ticking of the wall clock recorded hours of panted breathes. Each moment...bonds thicker than blood.

Flashes of clear memories sat on her eyes as she saw and longed. A hunger. A desire. A quickening of heart triggered by sensuous touches.

Rasp.
Raw.
Rapid...

Seconds turned hours and hours days, months, years with distance as parting gift.