I like the way your body slumps against your will at the end of it, when you cry out like your heart is breaking in a very quiet powerful way. I like the salty water we swim in, the bold crashing waves of here touch here and then now just a little yes. My indigo hair against your darker skin than my pale white. Just a little sad shoe shuffle, one foot moving after the other, both of us cheek to cheek. We’re dancing like the filler background to an old black and white movie. We’re not the heroes anymore, they’re over in the spotlight and we’re laughing too softly. The music would be something jazz, sweet and quiet and slightly tired. This is the recovering afterburn, coming down from fire setting stone earlier. Earlier was heat in the belly, hands tangled in hair, tangled in rythms pressed from hot bodies. Slipping flesh into empathy, slippery silks like folds slick. Shallows of lust on the tongue, vibrations in the blood – it’s old fashioned magnetic resonance. Picture this, this girl, how when she sleeps her fingers curl to cut the palms of her hands as she tries to pull your ghost inside of her.
to match with this