sjsprWriting

 Your hands find their way to my twisted hips and I can feel them on my rigid bones,

pulling me into worlds I‘ve known all too well:

Secret realms hidden beneath the creases at the foot of my bedsheets

I welcome the feel of your skin on my fingertips,

crashing, waves on the shores of Rincon.

If I wasn’t four drinks into my night, I would swear that I can see someone swimming in the pools of your darkened eyes.

Maybe it was me, who floats on the surface of your thoughts.

I think about how everything about you seems fluidic tonight, and almost as if you could read my mind, your rugged arms overtake me like a powerful flood.

I drown.

Molded, I know every curve that cascades down your sculpted back.

Sometimes I even think I could call you mine, but I know you slip through my fingers every time.

So I let you supply me with the aqueous love that you have reserved for me, and let you go on your way, for I know you will return.

 Water and fire alike are drawn to each other.