scene 1: my broken hand I wake up and it is still in plaster, wrapped tightly like a glove, I was going to draw and create all of this uni break, writing hand, my drawing hand, my crafting hand, shattered … Continue reading
Out in the field, I chase you,
my paws feeling the reeds, yellow and green,
earth on my feet, sun warming my heart,
you look back for a moment,making sure I follow,
your scent travels to me in the breeze,
I can smell your body, and curves,
you blood pumping with excitement, beneath your soft skin,
closing in on my prey, fixed on you,
the chase, the hunt, it has all come to this,
for me and you.
I was never much into it, but you insisted it will be fun, “totally worth it!”. So here we are.
You put on some music, and sit down facing me. A relaxed pose, and I copy. You tie your hair up, your chest stretches, full underneath that top. I watch your clothes and how your body moves beneath them.
Yoga is an experience. From what I’ve heard it’s for chicks who want to get better at lovin’.
The rhythm in the background guides the tempo of out movements. changing from one pose to the next. Holding, feeling the stretch, my body opening up.
The afternoons are long, your legs are longer. Here on the rooftop. I sit at a wooden table, a chair empty opposite me. You make your way to join. Your butt fills the chair. I breath you in. And know your skin. It’s warm here in the sunlight. Warmer still near you.
I hear a bird chirping, distant sounds of civilized life going on without me. You hold my hands. My palm exposed. Your fingers running from my wrist to finger tip. “Do you feel that?” you ask. Eyes fixed on mine.
This is where I am meant to be, squinting in the afternoon sun, with you.
BENT ON LOVE 