curiosity auburn The way my eyes measure the distance from the slope of your neck to the delicate curve of your hips is more than curiosity. More than a moment of wonder. It's an honest feeling within me from where the clay first moved to form a heart. This heart. The way my mind dances with visions of you  with an arched back and clenched fists and barely visible lines of sweat down your rising and falling chest is more than curiosity. Up and down. In and out. It is more than an idea. The way I ache over the distance between your perfect fingers and my longing hand is more than curiosity. More than a fickle passion. The way I trace the outline of each memory of you with careful and delicate precision is more, so much more, than curiosity. Words, glances,  so many faded chances…  The fight I feel within me, I didn't put there. And it isn't curiosity. It's truth. Truth I'm dying to speak. To know. I could set the world on fire.  120216 what's it to you? who go blather from