|Less than Lovemaking, More than Fucking
Author: So-she-wrote-a-poem-about-it PM
maybethiswasn'tagoodideaRated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Words: 436 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 04-12-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3013016
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I look down at your twisted mouth,
White fingertips and the shadows in your cheek
As you lay there asking me to hold on
And grip tighter,
I'm too amateur though
Gripping to your frame with something like panic
My forehead dripping,
My head spinning
Because I've never done this before.
You just groan and throw your head back
Your neck pulsing
Everything around me shaking
And I feel your hands like a drowning man
On my hip and awkward elbow
You've found a place, and I try to find you
There, where everything is noise and sweat and sound
Though your body
Your narrow waist and veiny arms-
I'm a little disgusted, how human we are
Parts of you and parts of me together- like animals
Though the line of your collarbone
And your dark-lashed eyes are making me
I want to cross lines and jump outside this
Innocent shell, impulses like wanting
My teeth on your lip and my fingers down your ribs
I'd like to rediscover and recreate with you,
Parts of you all over parts of me,
And watch our skin change shades.
But I'm too many nerves
And shy little nods,
Shy little mews
And sighs against your neck
-I would hide my face and dig under your skin if I could-
With me, feels so wrong and
I know this isn't the first time you've had a pretty girl blushing on your hips.
Your face makes shapes
And your mouth, sounds, unnamed and undefined
I want to write them out,
To study and understand them,
To find them and live somewhere inside them,
Your breathing ragged
If I put my palm to your chest I'd feel that caged thing
Like it's trying to break out, break free
Am I making you free?
You murmur something about more
And fuck yes
Like intoxicated pleas-
I think you've made a drug of me.
My fingers curl on your shoulder,
My knuckles running down your spine like piano keys
We are two different people
Legs and arms and fists,
And I don't think we even see
The important things.
Like yesterday and tomorrow, and
But I don't care, this sound is everywhere
In that place, between sensation
With your gentle hands and dirty fingernails.
I close my eyes, feeling the rhythm through your skin,
Like the end of what's right and what's wrong
And the things that really matter.