His beard smells faintly of wine and cigarette smoke.
His lips lost beneath it.
A fervid coil tightens deep inside her,
The woman thinks it’s
The way his arms crush her body against his.
She tells him to pull her hair,
Savouring the pain as his fingers tighten.
She tells him to look at her
the coil wound so tense her whole body aches with it.
She fixates on his gaze as she loudly unravels from the inside out.
As soon as her breathing slows
she chases it once more.
Hysterical seduction engulfs her loneliness,
His unfamiliarity promised annihilation
and she is desperate for it.
The stranger asks her to call out his name.
But she falters.
There’s no one else here.
Just the woman in the strangers eyes,
Nemesis mocks as she tries to drown in her own reflection.
I met someone. Someone with whom I can’t seem to spend enough time without being left unsatisfied and craving more. He comes over most nights; we eat together and talk and laugh and discover an endless list of things we have in common; books we’ve read, albums we loved, films we watched.
The evenings end in my bedroom, the opposite side of my bed filled with his warmth. We talk, our fingers tracing patterns on each other, until our voices are slow and thick with languor. The time comes again and again, a warm comforting sleep seeps into our entangled bodies. He has to leave. Our goodbye is drawn out, sighs and bleary eyed kisses at my front door, our bodies heavy with sleep and contentment. He leaves in the dark, his coat pulled up tight against the damp November night.
I return to bed, the scene of our brief moments of happiness. I sleep with the other side of my bed still warmed from his body, the scent of us still faintly in the air.