“Thunder only happens when it’s raining
Players only love you when they’re playing
Women, they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know”
Dreams – Fleetwood Mac
J’adore Dior and L’eau Par Kenzo. A night of fingertips fluttering over skins, the graze of stubble, and warmth exchanged under the covers.
“For whatever it’s worth, a part of me loves a part of you”, I say.
“I love you, too”, you say.
A beat of silence that you broke:
“Too bad you’re here and I’m there.”
Stories of broken hearts and glass beads and the ink that records the things that touched you. Interludes in between kisses. Shared laughter. Freaks and non-conformists.
A text message:
“Thank you for making me feel special”, you say.
“That’s because you are”, I say.
I don’t go for Bigs, you don’t go for Barbies. Exceptions to the rule. The heat that seared my surface; dripping, flowing, running down.
“Love is a useless and irrelevant emotion.”
And yet here I am, free-falling.