Downhearted for just a flutter of the lashes
Wednesday following.
I forgot about everything almost entirely and walked to his house hand in hand to watch a film that meant a lot to me and simultaneously meant nothing to him.
We kissed to the sound of faint, electrical buzzing and to the smell of ginseng and ginger. His mother explained it was an aphrodisiac before confronting him about the discovery of strewn condoms on his bedroom floor. Purple for pleasure. Red for regret and shame
Mouths getting wetter and movements more frantic. Occasionally disrupting the kiss to take it in turns to recoil and drag rogue hairs from our mouths that were insistent on sliding down our throats, to collect and twist in our trails of entrails.
Since the very first kiss arrived by breathing through each other's lungs, there has always been various...ticks, we share. At first, a smart-casual dress-coded relationship, churned and metamorphosed in to formal, though we knew the clock was counting down despite attempts to bend the hands.
I like him because he is safe. He likes me because I am not.
As I got home I longed to surround myself with pretty things, and thus I did;
Three dream catchers, an hourglass made of brass, a black fish with a paintbrush protruding from the gaping mouth, two ornate and empty photo frames, lots and lots of tiny chairs, a mirror and a mask.
I sat amidst the clutter and felt warm.
We kissed to the sound of faint, electrical buzzing and to the smell of ginseng and ginger. His mother explained it was an aphrodisiac before confronting him about the discovery of strewn condoms on his bedroom floor. Purple for pleasure. Red for regret and shame
Mouths getting wetter and movements more frantic. Occasionally disrupting the kiss to take it in turns to recoil and drag rogue hairs from our mouths that were insistent on sliding down our throats, to collect and twist in our trails of entrails.
Since the very first kiss arrived by breathing through each other's lungs, there has always been various...ticks, we share. At first, a smart-casual dress-coded relationship, churned and metamorphosed in to formal, though we knew the clock was counting down despite attempts to bend the hands.
I like him because he is safe. He likes me because I am not.
As I got home I longed to surround myself with pretty things, and thus I did;
Three dream catchers, an hourglass made of brass, a black fish with a paintbrush protruding from the gaping mouth, two ornate and empty photo frames, lots and lots of tiny chairs, a mirror and a mask.
I sat amidst the clutter and felt warm.