Tactile Summer Love

some nights you are so sweet that my teeth ache, but there are still mornings when I wake up gagging on the sharp bitterness in the air - black coffee scorching my throat.

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I'm holding you in my palm like a ripe-to-bursting clementine. you're sweet with a bite - a bite to make me smile. juice fills my mouth like the sun, washes me happyclean and new. your smell like summer sticks to my skin, lingering long after the sun has set and the sky softened.

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hours after our breaths have slowed and our bodies softened into each other, our eyes blink open to the darkness - first mine (a flutter, tripping its way down my spine while I try to hold still, try not to wake you), then yours (a shudder, a yawn, a stretch - my hip gasps as your arm lifts off my waist). the summer night has crept into bed with us, sits on our chests and kneads with heavy hands. you rise, throw open the window - pause (light from outside spills into every valley of you, your figure cast in shadowy relief). the sound of the rain fills the room, roils near the ceiling like a storm cloud, pouring cool breeze down on us. the air washes over my summer peach skin, tempering the sheen of our sweat. it leaves a trail of tiny goosebumps - my skin reaching out to you, standing there by the window - yearning for your touch (firmer than the breeze, gentler than the light now tracing your lines - sweeter than both). come, my skin is saying. come back to bed.

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sweetness and aching and soft peach thin rosy sweat cooling on downy pearly - softening, into, each other. hidden like a secret, a secret with a bite, a bite to make me smile, to make me bleed. dark heat pressing down and kneading and needing, breaths slowing and flutters tripping along my spine, and always holding still and always rosy summer peach lips and hips and cheeks. and lingering on skin and skies softening and breaths slowing, deepening and slowing. a soft slow summer of rosy peaches and skin and dark heat and biting secrets and deep breaths - and pure smooth hell.

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some nights you are so sweet that my teeth ache, but there are still mornings when I wake up dizzy with the smell of my own blood. and there is something about the stone in the pit of my stomach, clenched like your fist, that tastes like an amphetamine. but maybe that is just the blood pooling in my throat and your heart thudding through our veins and your hand like metal on my neck, pulling me closer to you like a secret.