I want my fingers through your hair, my lips to your neck, the vibrant pleasure of comfort and ease that nearly control eager excitements from occurring. I want the taste of consumption, the near-sided dizziness of love intoxication, the foreign but flowing pleasures, I want the sexy snapshots of memory to return. I want the heat like when I used to get you ice water afterward. I want the exploration like the first time we really touched, I desire pleasure drunk gasps. I want you all alone, with a lot of time, a mission to accomplish, wet hair, uncontrollable desire and curtains.

"Nothing like a ruthless fuck you to clear up the situation" She laughed as she said to the tree. The tree laughed too.
To this laughter, they drank.

"Nothing like a nonchalant fuck you to cease the embellished lies" Said the laughing tree. And the girl laughed too.
To this they drank. And drank.

Two coffees and a tattoo later;
scabs and pride, laptops and candlelight.
I love you.

Plastic pearls and coasters and mugs made of clay and glaze and talent. Two cellphones, three actually, all on one innocent wooden coffee table. 2 mugs. Singular. Bare shoulders and blankets and boyshorts and kisses and necks and cold lips. Friction. Non-Fiction.

Body

She pushed her small feet against the thin exhausted soles of her shoes. Applying moderate pressure, she twisted her body slowly. She was alert and listened closely for the cries of the gravel grinding against itself, breaking down its body into granules of dust. The feeling of control and uneven ground beneath her feet calmed her and excited her at the same time. (Two feelings often crafted in her body, however, usually in a less innocent context).

Dust

A girl who had dirty knees lived off eating solid particles with diameters less than 500 micrometers. She got her protein from pureed moths. She fed off of old library books and old photographs. Her only faithful companion was a fish. He lived off algae that he found on the sides of his tank. Her fellow traveler, whom she named boyfriend, lived off bottle caps, marker caps, old keys, plastic beads, nails, springs, bolts and buttons. He played her piano, not well, but in the name of good taste. Fish, boyfriend and dirty knees all had one thing in common. They loathed gravity.