Yesterday, 07:35 AM
I thought this was a lovely, intimate, clear-eyed portrait of a moment and its resonance across space and time. My first impulse is to compress. By way of suggestion, a trimming/reshaping:
Tides of air on sun
washed skin. I am eighteen and she
holds my eyes
to make my cheeks flush.
Her rhythmic exhales
comforting. I have to hug my knees
to my pulse seated at the edge of her
fingers tapping and crawling until
my feet are wet.
I am eighteen and she
is playful, winking light along
her surface. Coy, patient
goddess. She can hear
my panting up against
my legs. I am excited to be
afraid. To dance in her. Breath
catching in my throat
when she pulls at my waist—
Love me. It is not
a request.
I am eighteen and she
is yanking at my body when
she kisses up my throat, our chests
heaving together. A gasp swept
underneath. Only to burst
from her, soaked in her. Eyes
to the dying sun. The horizon
is on fire. My lungs
draw it in. I am eighteen and she
embraces me. Life has no weight.
Her world, a languid amber. Time unwound
and dizzying.
My axis
twisted slowly.
My world
dissolved in her.
When she is finished
with me, her fingers coax
away. When my muscles burn
inside my skin. Returning me
to the beach. My exhausted body
laying dark under the sky. Hair sticking
to my face. Palms sinking
into the sand.
--
Thank you for sharing your work with me <3
Another thought I just had: it could be cool to shift to the collective pronoun at the end:
When she is finished
with me, her fingers coax
away. When muscles burn
inside our skin. Returning us
to the beach. Our exhausted body
laying dark under the sky. Hair sticking
to our face. Palms sinking
into the sand.
Tides of air on sun
washed skin. I am eighteen and she
holds my eyes
to make my cheeks flush.
Her rhythmic exhales
comforting. I have to hug my knees
to my pulse seated at the edge of her
fingers tapping and crawling until
my feet are wet.
I am eighteen and she
is playful, winking light along
her surface. Coy, patient
goddess. She can hear
my panting up against
my legs. I am excited to be
afraid. To dance in her. Breath
catching in my throat
when she pulls at my waist—
Love me. It is not
a request.
I am eighteen and she
is yanking at my body when
she kisses up my throat, our chests
heaving together. A gasp swept
underneath. Only to burst
from her, soaked in her. Eyes
to the dying sun. The horizon
is on fire. My lungs
draw it in. I am eighteen and she
embraces me. Life has no weight.
Her world, a languid amber. Time unwound
and dizzying.
My axis
twisted slowly.
My world
dissolved in her.
When she is finished
with me, her fingers coax
away. When my muscles burn
inside my skin. Returning me
to the beach. My exhausted body
laying dark under the sky. Hair sticking
to my face. Palms sinking
into the sand.
--
Thank you for sharing your work with me <3
Another thought I just had: it could be cool to shift to the collective pronoun at the end:
When she is finished
with me, her fingers coax
away. When muscles burn
inside our skin. Returning us
to the beach. Our exhausted body
laying dark under the sky. Hair sticking
to our face. Palms sinking
into the sand.