She gently approached the antique record player in the corner of the room. Reaching for the spinning needle, she quickly realized she was too stoned to maneuver the needle without a loud slip. Everyone n the room looked her way as she screeched the needle to a halt. Stumbling through the records on the side she somehow got what she was looking for. She gently placed it on the record bed, flipped the switch and soft silk sang from the speakers.
She was always like that. Finding grace in such clumsy moments. She was delicate and strong. A fascinating brilliance. She was a miracle and a part of my life. I got to witness the beauty and command she had. I got to feel her soft lips on mine every night. I got to hear her cry in lust every time I trusted myself into her. She is my love.