45 seconds of fury
1. A venomous indulgence, our knotted tongues and hair and limbs beneath the white sheets, emblematic of purity. A fortress unkempt from the violent adulation of each-others bodies.
2.All love is rape, and I have seen that face before, pilfering in the darkness. From the precipice of irrelevance, I push those men forth, their vacuous black eyes fading, erasing. I feel nothing and lay claim to myself. It is only you now, floating in the space between my closed eyelids at 12:41 am.
3. A quickening of the coronary system. Unanswerable questions drench me in the sweat of ambivalence. Things I ought not to desire and the dodging of cardial fracture. A page of things I can not say aloud tucked inside a drawer in my chest.
4.I feel his breathing beneath my cheek, his hand in my hair. The cynical logic escapes me, and I breath it out like helium from a child’s lungs. It leaves in whispers, giggles, kisses, moaning..
5. I fold into him, eyes shut, imagining a place more viable than this. A curl is then tucked behind my ear, and I shudder at the serenity that fills me. This time, it’s going to hurt.
