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megan
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light filters in a cracked window
time is on our side for once
you... black hair messed, i can feel your faint curls against my hand. coarse, rough, but smells of sweet. peeking eyes from under a white sheet, bright blue, wakes the creature from within me that scares the butterflies into flight within my stomach. i wish to worship the way your mouth curves into a smile, the way your nose accentuates your face. makes you strong.
that neck. bitten and rosy from wrestling with a power greater than both our bodies.
shoulders, wide, covers me so i don't have to see the world anymore, so i don't have to be strong on my own.
your body... explicit, exquisite, come close to me...
i could write a thousand words on this moment of tension, of wondering whether to or whether not to give myself up to this. a moment of sweet defeat. yet still...
your words have wrapped themselves around me, their promises fleeting and so extravagant i question the reality. forever?
your body backs it up... push into me, pull out, and back in. again and again that promise echoes in my empty brain, the desolate place where i go when the human race disappears and i am among angels and heathens. have i gone too far? can he still feel me beneath him, pulsating, waiting for the next moment of bliss?
how i can still be too young and have all these feelings boggles me.
at the very least, i am warm, i am safe, i am happy.
most of all, i am loved.
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031115
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