The simple act of standing behind me has my heart racing. What we did in bed, rolling around. A mess of limbs and a chorus of moans. It’s amazing. Breathtaking to be together. I learn new things about him every time. The rectangular shape of his birthmark. The way he twitches when I touch the back of his neck.
But, the way he looks at me through the mirror. When we’re done and my hands are trembling all I want to do is stare at him through that dusty mirror. I want to feel his hands touch my waist, hold it firmly. I want to keep his thumbs near my spine, his fingers gripping around and towards my stomach. I want him to kiss my right shoulder— no, in that space between my shoulder and my neck. I want to feel him squeeze me there. I want to pretend he’s not there as I wash my hands and face. I want to always be surprised when I hear the crackle of my zipper, and to feel his fingers work the button.
I want that feeling always. I want to feel how much he cares through all of the little things he does. I can taste him on my lips, still feel his teeth grazing my bottom lip. I can see him licking his lips, feel his breath quicken. I can relive all these things, but what I want is to live just that one thing. That moment in front of the mirror.
The ocean rumbles in the distance,
Bright moon in dark sky,
and we sit on a balcony.
Overlooking it all,
we sat together
one last time.
3 AM.
I would wrap myself with your arms every night if I could. Feel the strength people overlook. Seek comfort in the tenor of your voice. Cherish the way your lips press against mine. How are you mine? We differ in so many ways but somehow under a blanket of night, my day is only complete hearing the sound of your tired voice. Bass notes mumbling good night, lingering glances. We want to say more, but what more is there to say until morning?
We kissed, my back pressed against the open brick. His arms wrapped securely around me. I tasted his teeth, grazing my tongue across the sharp edges. Rough, always rough. Gentleness is wasted in our time. Raw, rough, hard. Urgent.
“Ahh,” he breathed, pulling away. My lips followed his. ”You’re turning me on.”
How many people have you slept with? Who was the last person you kissed? How long have you felt this way about me? Why didn’t you say anything until now? What did you think about me when I was with him? How serious are we? Should I have any reason to be worried when you’re travelling? Are you worried I’m with you for the money? What does getting a dog together mean to you? Do you really think we’ll be able to runaway together? You say you love everything about me, but what about when I’m lazy? When I don’t have the will to get out of bed? When everything hurts and all I want to do is cry? Will my depression push you away? Will my anxiety frustrate you?
Am I going crazy?
