You’re so used to impermanence that
you learn to fall in love with an exit
strategy. You think that’s being safe.
You kiss people in small doses so you
don’t get attached. But you still do.
That’s how you give yourself up in pieces.
I can offer you my hand,
my impatient tentacles that will graze your thighs. Let them find us gasping in bathroom stalls and buses with our fingers sticky with greed, with eyes that see only dark corners and opportunity as we rendezvous on lover’s lane. Continue reading “Anything for you”→
In 10 years,
you won’t remember
my name. I will be
just a tiny puzzle
of your youth, a
a forgotten kiss,
your hands. Continue reading “Snowflake”→
I swear, he was plotting my destruction.
Electricity coursed through my body each time his tongue parted me enough to reach where he wanted me to be. He would toy with me, just slightly slipping his hardness between my throbbing folds, his thumb circling my clit between each excruciatingly slow thrust. Impatience bested me in ways I begged against, but what can I do? I wanted more. I ended up heaving his name into the pillows and sheets beside me. “Look at me until you cum,” he demanded, his hands anchored in my hair. I kept my gaze right up until he released my lips from his kiss, as we screamed each other’s name as we exchanged gasps of air and murmurs of release. I live for these intimate dances for two.