Karen Brooks

Her voice smelled like garlic, eaten raw, full of bursting flavor; ripe, crunchy, inedible but wanted in every ounce of noise, chatter and silence. Nasal but creeping up slowly to surprise with a tingle, tinge and taste, likened to teasing. Wanted, needed, healthy, whole but with an after-taste only noticed by those that haven’t been party to the having of it. Craving more, needing more even while knowing it chases others away. Such was the power of her delicious voice.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s