Crushed


I feel something crushing me.

It pulls in the skin of my waist, and crackles my ribs. Sucking sweetly and wholly, the air from my lungs. It’s harmless and it doesn’t hurt… 


Me


I know that you can see the quickening in-and-about rhythm beneath the collar of my shirt. Strong enough to move my body when your gaze meets mine. A wavering, hot red ray of light forming between 


You and I


Never to come, but to form in a way that is ultimately connective and invisible. A subconscious dance. To fall into my far-away daily mind and into your wet dreams. Uttering my name in the dark and to no one. Imagining the taste of me in brief, fragrant passes. I watch your eyes drift from an appropriately ordinary thought to obscene reverie, losing your time on my lips. I know you place yourself between them. 

I know all of your truths and the many lies spoken between your mind and body.


You


Will never touch me. You’ll never run the silken string of my panties through your fingers or pull them to the side before sinking into me. You’ll never feel my warm hands gathering you as you touch my lips in the way that you’ve dreamt about one million times before. To know that you know that, absolutely and entirely, fills me up.

It is better than orgasm. Better than any single touch. To watch you ache the way I do, to indulge in the immensity of our mutual suffering. I get high off of the war you wage. I can smell your need. It permeates my being and to write of it makes my body freeze. I see that you’re on fire and I will never put you out. I’ll burn, too. 



S.

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