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Friday, February 03, 2006
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In my dreams lately it is dark and quiet. Steam rises in tendrils across my skin... one. two. three. marking off space and time in an otherwise inky void. You're there beside me. alabaster. Seaweed hair flowing around us wrapping itself around our limbs - tangling in my fingers. Pulling me down. down. down. As our lips meet the taste of you insinuates itself across my tounge, salt, but your skin is cool and damp where only fire should be. My fingers struggle there in the dark [passing soft along your face, your thigh] to kindle a light; to feel your breath catch at our nearness; to sing a pulse to life within our veins [such a simple thing. again. and again. and again].
But this time when the light arrives it is cold and dim. It scatters across your glassy eyes. and in my head the ocean begins to roar ...
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