Moochie’s Mementos (and a pic or two)

Closer

I think of your skin
when the world goes quiet—
the way it gives beneath my fingers,
warm,
real,
mine.

I reach for you in the dark,
knowing you're not there,
but still—
I reach.

I want your back beneath my hands,
your chest under my mouth,
your breath close enough
to steal.

I remember how your body answers—
the way it tenses,
the way it melts,
the way it begs without words.

I want to trace every line of you
slowly,
then again,
then again.

My body remembers you—
in the ache between my legs,
in the way I press into nothing,
hoping it will become you.

I don’t just miss you—
I need you,
need the weight of you,
the press of you,
the heat of you
so close
it blurs the edges
of where I end.

Come back.

Let me touch you
like I never stopped.
Let me lose myself
where you begin.

I need your teeth right here.
Fuck....
Love the sentiment you expressed. 💐💐💐💐
 
I'm a bit CDO (like OCD but alphabetical as it should be), I would likely need to leave teeth marks on both. Symmetry is important. And perhaps hold the daggers in my teeth and pull?
 
Closer

I think of your skin
when the world goes quiet—
the way it gives beneath my fingers,
warm,
real,
mine.

I reach for you in the dark,
knowing you're not there,
but still—
I reach.

I want your back beneath my hands,
your chest under my mouth,
your breath close enough
to steal.

I remember how your body answers—
the way it tenses,
the way it melts,
the way it begs without words.

I want to trace every line of you
slowly,
then again,
then again.

My body remembers you—
in the ache between my legs,
in the way I press into nothing,
hoping it will become you.

I don’t just miss you—
I need you,
need the weight of you,
the press of you,
the heat of you
so close
it blurs the edges
of where I end.

Come back.

Let me touch you
like I never stopped.
Let me lose myself
where you begin.

I need your teeth right here.
I am ready to oblige! You look amazing as always. And that sword nipple piercing is pretty creative and sexy
 
Closer

I think of your skin
when the world goes quiet—
the way it gives beneath my fingers,
warm,
real,
mine.

I reach for you in the dark,
knowing you're not there,
but still—
I reach.

I want your back beneath my hands,
your chest under my mouth,
your breath close enough
to steal.

I remember how your body answers—
the way it tenses,
the way it melts,
the way it begs without words.

I want to trace every line of you
slowly,
then again,
then again.

My body remembers you—
in the ache between my legs,
in the way I press into nothing,
hoping it will become you.

I don’t just miss you—
I need you,
need the weight of you,
the press of you,
the heat of you
so close
it blurs the edges
of where I end.

Come back.

Let me touch you
like I never stopped.
Let me lose myself
where you begin.

I need your teeth right here.
Such potent language, and very sensual imagery. A delight as always to read.
 
Closer

I think of your skin
when the world goes quiet—
the way it gives beneath my fingers,
warm,
real,
mine.

I reach for you in the dark,
knowing you're not there,
but still—
I reach.

I want your back beneath my hands,
your chest under my mouth,
your breath close enough
to steal.

I remember how your body answers—
the way it tenses,
the way it melts,
the way it begs without words.

I want to trace every line of you
slowly,
then again,
then again.

My body remembers you—
in the ache between my legs,
in the way I press into nothing,
hoping it will become you.

I don’t just miss you—
I need you,
need the weight of you,
the press of you,
the heat of you
so close
it blurs the edges
of where I end.

Come back.

Let me touch you
like I never stopped.
Let me lose myself
where you begin.

I need your teeth right here.
I can almost feel your need.🤗🤗🤗
 
Closer

I think of your skin
when the world goes quiet—
the way it gives beneath my fingers,
warm,
real,
mine.

I reach for you in the dark,
knowing you're not there,
but still—
I reach.

I want your back beneath my hands,
your chest under my mouth,
your breath close enough
to steal.

I remember how your body answers—
the way it tenses,
the way it melts,
the way it begs without words.

I want to trace every line of you
slowly,
then again,
then again.

My body remembers you—
in the ache between my legs,
in the way I press into nothing,
hoping it will become you.

I don’t just miss you—
I need you,
need the weight of you,
the press of you,
the heat of you
so close
it blurs the edges
of where I end.

Come back.

Let me touch you
like I never stopped.
Let me lose myself
where you begin.

I need your teeth right here.
We need you back.😘😘
 
What We Borrow

Time never stays long with us.
It brushes past like wind through open curtains—
cool, then gone.

We measure our moments
not in hours,
but in glances,
fingers tracing collarbones,
breath shared in the quiet between words.

Sometimes, it feels like we’re always arriving
just as we must leave—
half-dressed in memory,
half-lost in what could have been
if clocks ever loved like we do.

And yet,
every second I lie in His arms
is a small eternity.
The kind that folds into the marrow,
that asks for nothing more—
only this:
His warmth,
His stillness,
the weight of knowing
I would trade whole days
for just five more minutes
wrapped in Him.

Because with Him,
brief
is still
beautiful.
 
What We Borrow

Time never stays long with us.
It brushes past like wind through open curtains—
cool, then gone.

We measure our moments
not in hours,
but in glances,
fingers tracing collarbones,
breath shared in the quiet between words.

Sometimes, it feels like we’re always arriving
just as we must leave—
half-dressed in memory,
half-lost in what could have been
if clocks ever loved like we do.

And yet,
every second I lie in His arms
is a small eternity.
The kind that folds into the marrow,
that asks for nothing more—
only this:
His warmth,
His stillness,
the weight of knowing
I would trade whole days
for just five more minutes
wrapped in Him.

Because with Him,
brief
is still
beautiful.
I support this return
However brief it may be.
 
What We Borrow

Time never stays long with us.
It brushes past like wind through open curtains—
cool, then gone.

We measure our moments
not in hours,
but in glances,
fingers tracing collarbones,
breath shared in the quiet between words.

Sometimes, it feels like we’re always arriving
just as we must leave—
half-dressed in memory,
half-lost in what could have been
if clocks ever loved like we do.

And yet,
every second I lie in His arms
is a small eternity.
The kind that folds into the marrow,
that asks for nothing more—
only this:
His warmth,
His stillness,
the weight of knowing
I would trade whole days
for just five more minutes
wrapped in Him.

Because with Him,
brief
is still
beautiful.
Welcome back. 🤗🤗🤗💐💐💐
These words hit a few spots. 🥰🥰🥰
 
What We Borrow

Time never stays long with us.
It brushes past like wind through open curtains—
cool, then gone.

We measure our moments
not in hours,
but in glances,
fingers tracing collarbones,
breath shared in the quiet between words.

Sometimes, it feels like we’re always arriving
just as we must leave—
half-dressed in memory,
half-lost in what could have been
if clocks ever loved like we do.

And yet,
every second I lie in His arms
is a small eternity.
The kind that folds into the marrow,
that asks for nothing more—
only this:
His warmth,
His stillness,
the weight of knowing
I would trade whole days
for just five more minutes
wrapped in Him.

Because with Him,
brief
is still
beautiful.
Stunning as always. And a cool breeze sounds divine right about now. And five more minutes... Isn't that always the way?
 
What We Borrow

Time never stays long with us.
It brushes past like wind through open curtains—
cool, then gone.

We measure our moments
not in hours,
but in glances,
fingers tracing collarbones,
breath shared in the quiet between words.

Sometimes, it feels like we’re always arriving
just as we must leave—
half-dressed in memory,
half-lost in what could have been
if clocks ever loved like we do.

And yet,
every second I lie in His arms
is a small eternity.
The kind that folds into the marrow,
that asks for nothing more—
only this:
His warmth,
His stillness,
the weight of knowing
I would trade whole days
for just five more minutes
wrapped in Him.

Because with Him,
brief
is still
beautiful.
@Moochienanu love that last poem and associated pic! Hope you are well. You have been missed ..
 
What We Borrow

Time never stays long with us.
It brushes past like wind through open curtains—
cool, then gone.

We measure our moments
not in hours,
but in glances,
fingers tracing collarbones,
breath shared in the quiet between words.

Sometimes, it feels like we’re always arriving
just as we must leave—
half-dressed in memory,
half-lost in what could have been
if clocks ever loved like we do.

And yet,
every second I lie in His arms
is a small eternity.
The kind that folds into the marrow,
that asks for nothing more—
only this:
His warmth,
His stillness,
the weight of knowing
I would trade whole days
for just five more minutes
wrapped in Him.

Because with Him,
brief
is still
beautiful.
Beautiful, a
What We Borrow

Time never stays long with us.
It brushes past like wind through open curtains—
cool, then gone.

We measure our moments
not in hours,
but in glances,
fingers tracing collarbones,
breath shared in the quiet between words.

Sometimes, it feels like we’re always arriving
just as we must leave—
half-dressed in memory,
half-lost in what could have been
if clocks ever loved like we do.

And yet,
every second I lie in His arms
is a small eternity.
The kind that folds into the marrow,
that asks for nothing more—
only this:
His warmth,
His stillness,
the weight of knowing
I would trade whole days
for just five more minutes
wrapped in Him.

Because with Him,
brief
is still
beautiful.
Beautiful and touching.🤗🤗
 
does anyone even need an update about your last 7 months? I mean… you’ve been MIA. Who fucking cares about Moochie anyway?! You haven’t been a friend (sorry, @AngelicaS1780 and @menoone I'm shit and you deserve a better littie bittie), a decent confidant (you know who you are - only one to pm me and tell me those wonderous stories of yours), or even a lover (Who am I kidding that He comes here anymore?!!?)

But here’s the thing:
I’m feeling a comeback tour.
Who’s in this with me?!!?
 
First, I need to figure out what I can post as an attachment and what I can’t.

Can someone help with this?
 
Hand holding is delightful. Can be friendly, wholesome, or even deeply intimate. And your hands are lovely.
 
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