His voice is like…


A recent assignment I did not do so badly:

His voice sounded like a man accustomed to drinking single malt scotch from heavy, crystal glasses, too wide for a woman’s hand; she heard his confident smile before she turned to notice him admiring her legs.

His voice sounded deep and rich like merlot; his flattery too easy to swallow and dangerous to overindulge.

I think it’s my background as a poet that makes me want to resist going overboard, restrains my hand.  I have to admit, it is rather liberating to let loose and go overboard! To go past the “this feels wrong” line and keep going is like drawing an arrow back, thinking this is too far, I don’t have the strength to pull it back more. But ,then you do, and then when you finally release the arrow and watch it fly, it’s fun. Getting praise for it, is cause for a pause.

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