Featured1.1K
No rest for a weary heart. by lupus-astra, literature
Literature
No rest for a weary heart.
Yesterday my mother asked me what I
would name my children and I told her that
I did not want any. She scoffed at me
and shook her head, insisting
that once I found the
"perfect man"
all of that would change.
And I thought back
to all the times when my palms
sweated and my throat ran dry
and my cheeks heated up just because
a girl walked by whose lips
were so pretty and pink that all I wanted
to do was taste them.
"No,"
I replied, swallowing the acid
that was threatening to crawl out of
my mouth,
"it will take a lot more than that
to convince me."
Because despite the fact that
the mere thought of a man
with arms that could carry the we
