The night. My sweatshirt. You stroking the top of my hand while looking away, while looking up.
I wonder which star it is you are looking at.
I do not ask.
I point and you shake your head.
"I am not looking at a star," you explain, "I am looking at the space between the stars,
wondering what is there in that blackness. It scares me."
I say nothing. Looking behind me, I see navy forming on the horizon. It matches my sweatshirt,
your shoes, my underwear. It doesn't scare me.
Still looking at the navy blue I grasp your left hand in my two hands.
Still looking at the navy blue I kiss your temple, I kiss your neck, I kiss your jaw.
Still looking at the black you kiss my forehead, you kiss my nose, you kiss my lips.
Still looking at the black you pull me into you.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.07 seconds at 7:43am on Nov 08, 2024 via server WEBX1.