06.14.06

trying the moleskine

I can feel the air scintillate in between our lips like steam snaking up from an avenue some yellow summer evening. Our bottom lips hang, heavy and pregnant so that his lips bloom red with blood and shine with the salvia from my mouth that he, smiling, sometimes licks and swallows.
It shocks me.
I smile.
A part of me slinks down his throat. A part of me rests lazily on its back in his stomach and he smiles.

shi-ou-sama at 9:30 a.m.

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