something i wrote about someone i used to know
somehow its relevant again.
let me clarify the subject line actually.
this is something i wrote,
a while back.
about someone i barely knew,
who i thought i knew,
who was a mentor and a muse and a writer, no less.
a teacher, no less.
a conquest, no less.
haha, like that matters, well it kind of does.
BECAUSE this story captures ONE moment in time
that may feel similar to this very moment in time,
however, the two feelings are completely different.
where was i going with this?
oh yeah, some people
make me primal and itchy
ive been daydreaming a LOT
and i want to say how thankful i am.
enjoy? i dont know.
“Close the door,” he said.
“I want you to feel my heartbeat,” she said.
She was always doubting whether it was in her best interest to feel this way. Her heart beat in her thighs, in her stomach, in her chest, and in her temples. Maybe she should go to the doctor? Maybe she just had cardiac atrophies. But only around him? Migraines were a mainstay her whole life anyway, she was sure it was just the nausea and the light sensitivity, and maybe the caffeine making her feel this way.
She had always wondered where his heart beat, yet somehow already knew. The curiosity was starting to consume her.
She placed his palm on her clavicle, his thumb and index finger crept slowly up her throat while the rest of his hand lay motionless, resting on the sound of her heart beating.
She placed both hands on his stomach as she kneeled on the ground, his whole hand was now enveloping her entire throat. It looked as if she was determining the future with a crystal ball or waiting for the kick from a fetus developing in his womb.
“I feel something,” she said as she moved both of her hands emphatically north, one palm grabbing at his chest, and one resting hesitantly on his neck.
“I want to feel you,” he said as his fingertips moved from her throat and now grazed her forehead.
They both looked at each other softly, but their stares penetrated deeply. It was the first time he had noticed the yellow in her eyes. And she felt more extreme intimidation than ever before, sitting there below him, kneeling no less. She was always inferior, but this time it scared her because it was so exciting. She felt as if she was about to reveal the one thing that had kept her interested, the one thing that wasn’t fleeting about him. She had always been curious, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Is it better to know the ephemeral feeling of that moment or is the mystery and seduction always going to be the thing your dreams are made of? Can anyone live with the tension of throbbing fingertips at their jugular?
“I cant wait any longer!” she screams as she hastily crawls on top of him, straddling him. She ferociously grabs his temples and kisses him hard on the forehead.
“I need to,” she whispers as she begins to rip the skin off of his temples. She is careful in her mutilation because she knows that soon, she will know where his heart beats. The answer is getting closer, she can almost feel it. Suddenly, two silver fastened toothed tracks glimmer in her eyes. He is still looking deeply into hers, and can see it too in the reflection. Not only does she feel it, now she can see it, she can hear it, she can almost taste it. She can hear the echo of her own heartbeat in her eardrums, she can taste it on her tongue, she can feel it in her temples. She feels his, vibrating on her fingertips, pulsing through the silver zipper.
“I want to feel your heartbeat,” she says.
“Open it,” he says.
let me clarify the subject line actually.
this is something i wrote,
a while back.
about someone i barely knew,
who i thought i knew,
who was a mentor and a muse and a writer, no less.
a teacher, no less.
a conquest, no less.
haha, like that matters, well it kind of does.
BECAUSE this story captures ONE moment in time
that may feel similar to this very moment in time,
however, the two feelings are completely different.
where was i going with this?
oh yeah, some people
make me primal and itchy
ive been daydreaming a LOT
and i want to say how thankful i am.
enjoy? i dont know.
“Close the door,” he said.
“I want you to feel my heartbeat,” she said.
She was always doubting whether it was in her best interest to feel this way. Her heart beat in her thighs, in her stomach, in her chest, and in her temples. Maybe she should go to the doctor? Maybe she just had cardiac atrophies. But only around him? Migraines were a mainstay her whole life anyway, she was sure it was just the nausea and the light sensitivity, and maybe the caffeine making her feel this way.
She had always wondered where his heart beat, yet somehow already knew. The curiosity was starting to consume her.
She placed his palm on her clavicle, his thumb and index finger crept slowly up her throat while the rest of his hand lay motionless, resting on the sound of her heart beating.
She placed both hands on his stomach as she kneeled on the ground, his whole hand was now enveloping her entire throat. It looked as if she was determining the future with a crystal ball or waiting for the kick from a fetus developing in his womb.
“I feel something,” she said as she moved both of her hands emphatically north, one palm grabbing at his chest, and one resting hesitantly on his neck.
“I want to feel you,” he said as his fingertips moved from her throat and now grazed her forehead.
They both looked at each other softly, but their stares penetrated deeply. It was the first time he had noticed the yellow in her eyes. And she felt more extreme intimidation than ever before, sitting there below him, kneeling no less. She was always inferior, but this time it scared her because it was so exciting. She felt as if she was about to reveal the one thing that had kept her interested, the one thing that wasn’t fleeting about him. She had always been curious, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Is it better to know the ephemeral feeling of that moment or is the mystery and seduction always going to be the thing your dreams are made of? Can anyone live with the tension of throbbing fingertips at their jugular?
“I cant wait any longer!” she screams as she hastily crawls on top of him, straddling him. She ferociously grabs his temples and kisses him hard on the forehead.
“I need to,” she whispers as she begins to rip the skin off of his temples. She is careful in her mutilation because she knows that soon, she will know where his heart beats. The answer is getting closer, she can almost feel it. Suddenly, two silver fastened toothed tracks glimmer in her eyes. He is still looking deeply into hers, and can see it too in the reflection. Not only does she feel it, now she can see it, she can hear it, she can almost taste it. She can hear the echo of her own heartbeat in her eardrums, she can taste it on her tongue, she can feel it in her temples. She feels his, vibrating on her fingertips, pulsing through the silver zipper.
“I want to feel your heartbeat,” she says.
“Open it,” he says.