I have been pulled through a vacuum and spat out into the life I was suppose to be leading all along.
An orgy of music, drugs and drink made of sex smells and Meyers soap. Lounging in a chair by a pool filled with leaves; cigarette in hand. Both drunk already he puts his drumsticks down and half a valium on my tongue. The days go fast but I always find myself here. He inside of me but still not close enough. My arms wrap around his back, hands stroking his hair, I think of Adam and Eve and how life must have begun for them.
But I have already eaten my apples and crossed paths with snakes.
This dream-state is bound to end but not the way the envious would like.
It will end when we end.
I use to think I was cursed. Cursed with a family that could never understand me; cursed with a never ending unreciprocated love for who ever spoke sweet words to me; cursed as a woman in general. Destined to be alone, overlooking all the love and chance and grace doused on me through all my hard times, never realizing that my filterless mind and curiosity to figure out why people are who they are and what got them there would eventually draw people to me with the same curiosity, affection and love that I had always believed existed.
Every morning I wake up before him. Always in his nook. Even with a shower the night before, sleeping so locked together brings the smell of him to the surface. A sweet strong scent. It’s only purpose-to torture me. His body, even dormant is flirting, teasing. I slide my hand across his chest several times before running my fingers past his waist via the gorgeous thighs I like to keep between my own. A peck on the neck, a kiss on his pecks, working my way down. Then, a few more meaningful kisses…
I can smell it on his lips so I press my own against his pouted smile. I can taste it now. It is the only thing I crave. Take me home. Put your hands on my breasts like they belong to you because they do.
I use to draw Unicorns.
Time hasn’t stopped just yet.
We know it is coming but the trumpet sounds too sweet to think of the rest
It only re-ignites past fires that refuse to die.
The wine is good
Sip by sip.
Good company on this last night’s voyage.
Hungry for more before inevitable damnation.