Submitted by megan on Sun, 05/09/2010 - 19:21
Normally when you take my jaw in your hand and twist my neck, I end up looking out the window. Or the shadows of branches and leaves on the curtains. I close my eyes and try to feel the light tapping my eyelids.
Tonight, tonight there is nothing.
It is pitch black out here: a place where there are no streetlights and the moon is new. Even the outline of the window has disappeared. I rely on my fingers, your breath, my ears.
You don't miss, you know my dimensions that well. Your grip is gentle as you feel for the tension building in my bunched and slackened muscles. My skin feels everything, every hair on your body, the movement of air and the pressure where we meet. It turns hot where your look, hungry and fierce, falls on me.