Flashy Fiction 2: Rejected Prose Poem

1 NOVEMBER, CAMDEN, NJ 1:22 AM

He held her face between his hands and whispered, “I love you, I always will,” not waiting for an answer, tucking her against him. Then, with his hand on her hip, his breath warm against her neck, he fell asleep, deeply and soundly. And when she kissed the hollow at the bend of his arm, she realized this was the only part of him she didn’t know intimately, as unlike her, even with his kisses over every inch of her naked body, he still knew nothing, as what we wish to bare is in reality, subjective.

© Copyright Gwen Jones 2017

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