we are born with a hunger, I feel it pressing me against the wall breathing on the nape of my neck.
the clock ticks, it fills the room with urgency, like a hive of angry bees with judgmental stares weaving in between the silent moments, drawn forward by instinct, seeking the pollen hidden between the petals of peony flowers
fuck is always a wish and letters of charcoal dust carved into wrists or bone.
there is no such thing as a satisfied craving, just another let down made infallible by the echo of need, the stringent acclimation to what is here leading to the salvation for what could have been
you see yourself better in the dark but I can’t help but love the morning light that shyly exposes your skin and lust
yet she flickers like a florescent bulb, sending shivers of lights that rebound against the darkness that pulses from my every pore, highlighting the need in effervescent glow
it’s all encased in the hard facts of winter, where eyes change color in the rain and hearts rage under the icicles deadly stare
she reeks of spring in blossom, that sultry promise of after the rain, the dreams of summer ensconced in the chill heart of perpetual winter, heating up to white heat in the desolation of cold
I love our dark cloud afternoons, spillways for emotion and hot brandy swallows. The taste of your tongue and your hand on my thigh as the thunder reminds us that we control the weather.
there is subtle radiance in closeness, as two waves of fire crash to form a new cyclone of licking flames that dance across the early morning dew, leaving nothing but steam rising in fresh sunshine as the world struggles to wake
we are there
twice in a week! EC let me write with her a second time! I already mentioned she is brilliant? Right? Good.