by Quin Browne

I will never be kissed again. Lips may touch my neck, my breasts, my back... that sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, the crook of my elbow, the inside of my wrist. The soft and delicate tissue just inside your lip will only touch me on my sweat slicked skin as our breathing stills, in joy, in release, in... that moment when we bond. Deep kisses give the promise of emotions surrendered, of soft sun filled places to which I will never go again as I choose now to only swim in the dark, deep maelstrom of physical twists and touches. Do not look for more, this is all I am able to give and this, this is better than nothing. Isn't it?


Quin Browne, author of Horizontal Vortex, lives in New York City. She likes it there.