Shirt Front

Undo me.

Thread snapping, 
chi uncoiling…
Wicked fever rising 
like a husky moan
from the silkiness of your throat.

Breaths, short and silent.

Desire, the tightness 
that coils beneath 
the shadows of a heart
and the curves 
of a sweat-damped shirt front.

An opening and two lives 
waiting to be undone.

Like what you read? Give TashInTheClouds a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.