intimacy, coffee, books; these are the rules

She stared straight into my eyes. Her face was close enough to say what she wanted and I knew that I could kiss her, we had been laughing and speaking of values for hours. I was drunk and high, I had whiskey and she liked to smoke and she had finally convinced me to mix the two. “Words become toxic once you’ve lost the opportunity to say them.” I leaned in and we kissed.

She cracked eggs into a pan while I stood leaning against the countertop. She wore a black cashmere sweater and small green velvet shorts, the length that keeps your eyes checking the hem. She modeled and you could see it in the way she stood hips cocked to rest on one leg, contrapposto. She was saying something about cooking and reading labels carefully and carefully I took in her pale skin.

I lie next to her tracing her
with my hand.
Her naked body is gorgeous and
sprawled, wrists above her head.
My fingers trail down her arm,
catch in the curve of her shoulder
and break down slowly
her collar bone.
Her chest and rib cage and mid section
all fall together beautifully in a line
running from her sternum
down between her legs
and I follow it.
Her lips part here and her pelvis
pushes here and her breathing
comes faster
as my hand finds her and my
fingers find her.
Leaning over I bite her hip
as if testing the authenticity of
her bones, and for awhile I live
in her racing heart and
her rising flame.

Chase Torbergson (chasetor)

Apr 26 21:02with 58 notes
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