the kitchen is our dance floor

We slow danced in the kitchen, my head resting on his broad shoulder, my entire being imprinting onto itself the scent and feel of home of his skin. A sense of safety that has for so long escaped me returned and paid me a visit as he held me close.

We slow danced and quickly I realized that all my life, all I have ever wanted, is to slow dance in the kitchen

with him.

Categories Creative Writing, Poetry, ProseTags , , , , , ,

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