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In the dim reaches of the forest, where the sunlight is filtered through so many leaves and vines that it is dark and green and warm, heavy with the heat and the moisture in the air, that is where we are. That is where we belong, wild and feral and free. Surrounded by growing things, treading lightly through the vines and over the fallen trees.
That is where we pause, ravenous for the taste of one another, once-starved for affection and now unafraid to touch. Fingertips on bare skin, palms warm as they slide flat over heated skin, mouths hot and slick and right. Hands rough from days of work, fingers that taste of earth and greenery. Sweat-slicked skin, tanned dark from the sun's touch, the flavour of love on our tongues.
Fresh fruit, found ripe on the vine and playfully finger-fed in avid adoration. Berries stain our fingertips, peaches leave our faces sticky-sweet, apples are a wondrous burst of crisp across our tongues. Childlike, they'd say, but they have no idea how very adult we are. We have transcended the limits of their reality and become Other, and we have lost our way back but we do not care.
We do not care to go back, to stay among the buildings so tall, the speeding cars, the rules and limitations of their lives. We do not want that for ourselves. Away from them, we have all we need. We have each other.
We lose ourselves in one another, in the wilderness and the wildness. Rarely do we stray from our self-imposed exile, for necessities we cannot make ourselves, things stolen in the dead of night. In the silence of the before-dawn hour, we creep around the edges of your real world, thieves and beggars with wide blue eyes and leaves in our hair.
In the remains of our tattered clothing, new scratches and age-old scars adorning our ankles like jewelry, we emerge barefoot into the realm of your harsh streetlights and exhaust fumes. Clever fingers pick out clandestine notes on street corners, while bare feet dance uncaring of the litter on the sidewalks. Our laughter rings out, and the jangle of occasional coins tumbling into a hand-made jar becomes a part of the music.
Like the sun, we disappear back to whence we came, wild children with our pockets full of trinkets. Fingers entwined, heads together as we whisper dreams into the twilight hour, weaving castles with our words. Building shelter out of vines and scraps, lying together beneath the stars, we count our treasures. First and foremost among them is always each other.
We count every inch of skin, mapped beneath our fingertips and mouths, laughter in the muggy autumn evening. Every breath in tastes of earth and green and pheromones, and we are dizzy with the touching. Travel the universe in a dizzy spiral, wrapped up in one another, moving in unison towards a shared goal.
Translocated, sharing hitched breaths, lost together as one into the planetary spin until we crash like waves and come down again to earth. Breathless and amazed, we stare, panting, at the sky, and laugh together with the slow ebb of our racing pulse. And then we drift, in quiet tones, beyond the dreams of daytime and into the dreams of the night, alone only behind our closed eyelids.
~Unfin~
That is where we pause, ravenous for the taste of one another, once-starved for affection and now unafraid to touch. Fingertips on bare skin, palms warm as they slide flat over heated skin, mouths hot and slick and right. Hands rough from days of work, fingers that taste of earth and greenery. Sweat-slicked skin, tanned dark from the sun's touch, the flavour of love on our tongues.
Fresh fruit, found ripe on the vine and playfully finger-fed in avid adoration. Berries stain our fingertips, peaches leave our faces sticky-sweet, apples are a wondrous burst of crisp across our tongues. Childlike, they'd say, but they have no idea how very adult we are. We have transcended the limits of their reality and become Other, and we have lost our way back but we do not care.
We do not care to go back, to stay among the buildings so tall, the speeding cars, the rules and limitations of their lives. We do not want that for ourselves. Away from them, we have all we need. We have each other.
We lose ourselves in one another, in the wilderness and the wildness. Rarely do we stray from our self-imposed exile, for necessities we cannot make ourselves, things stolen in the dead of night. In the silence of the before-dawn hour, we creep around the edges of your real world, thieves and beggars with wide blue eyes and leaves in our hair.
In the remains of our tattered clothing, new scratches and age-old scars adorning our ankles like jewelry, we emerge barefoot into the realm of your harsh streetlights and exhaust fumes. Clever fingers pick out clandestine notes on street corners, while bare feet dance uncaring of the litter on the sidewalks. Our laughter rings out, and the jangle of occasional coins tumbling into a hand-made jar becomes a part of the music.
Like the sun, we disappear back to whence we came, wild children with our pockets full of trinkets. Fingers entwined, heads together as we whisper dreams into the twilight hour, weaving castles with our words. Building shelter out of vines and scraps, lying together beneath the stars, we count our treasures. First and foremost among them is always each other.
We count every inch of skin, mapped beneath our fingertips and mouths, laughter in the muggy autumn evening. Every breath in tastes of earth and green and pheromones, and we are dizzy with the touching. Travel the universe in a dizzy spiral, wrapped up in one another, moving in unison towards a shared goal.
Translocated, sharing hitched breaths, lost together as one into the planetary spin until we crash like waves and come down again to earth. Breathless and amazed, we stare, panting, at the sky, and laugh together with the slow ebb of our racing pulse. And then we drift, in quiet tones, beyond the dreams of daytime and into the dreams of the night, alone only behind our closed eyelids.
~Unfin~
