It may be cliché but it’s true:
I awoke needing your mouth
on my clit…
feeling your beautiful hard
in my hand…
i see like you hear…
Your slightest touch gives me shivers. The barest-of-caress on my palm makes me moan in secret.
I try not to arch with pleasure.
(I can’t give myself away.)
I curl my toes and squeeze my knees together instead.
I look at our hands entwined.
I watch my fingers
spread and splay,
wrapped inside yours.
This is a luxury – your attention.
So tender sweet.
I swoon.
you know that sound…
all we need…
inside outside…
If I never see you again I will always carry you inside outside on my fingertips and at brain edges and in centers centers of what I am of what remains.
— Charles Bukowski —
she is…
She is madness, sanity. She is hell, and paradise.
– Ellen Hopkins –
