Like children, we made a nest on the floor in blankets. He’s was asleep and I typing, hoping the clatter of the keys wouldn’t distract him into consciousness. I wished I too were asleep, but I was working instead, watching the chat clip past a line at a time. I had to put aside my craving, sublimate it, and pay a modicum of attention.
After it was too late, he had to go. Another hemisphere was calling, t-minus candy after running to cripple my leg into limping. I’m used to it, I can take stairs faster on a cane then anyone I know. Desire smells like another place right now, like a drawing room with sunlight in, like walls with colours running down. I wrote once that I felt like taking my blood and throwing it at the sky to stick and I have a bit of that tonight. Let the vivid hues take me, let the drumroll begin. He was a cupped hand full of water with the light of fireflies shining through my fingers. On and over again, the weight of flesh catches my breath in little ways. His hand on mine. My hand on his. It’s sun flashing off water, it’s the flight of a predator bird above me, that scratchy snap as the span completely unfolds. We could be a landscape, we could be minds unfolded into poetry.
It’s Matthew‘s birthday today.
Indie Tits is sincerely the best new webcomic I’ve read recently.
Take me, my dear, to a place (check coats at the door) airport pretty. I fear your breath is what keeps me breathing. My soul changed hands, I’m not. I noticed in time to find where it went. Skin deep is all the knife needs, this guilty pleasure knot crawling inside of me. All I need is something you shouldn’t consider giving. I’m an animal that requires someone to hold this pose with me, dance a little in the middle of the floor. I’m addicted to the paraesthesia you provide in my daily life, in my smiling against your breast, forehead resting underneath your chin.