(no subject)
Cyclamen, Cicada, Black Prince
Aperitif.
Daylight Saving time arrives and the wait for dusk is agonizing.
Hiding behind blinds the slices of light play off my skin. I peer out from behind lidded eyes eager for the heat to melt away and leave me some peace in the brief blackness before bed.
I wander out my front gate between the rashes of lavender and the summer breeze niggles me as I place my footsteps cautiously over the ridges of cracked bitumen and swat mosquitoes away from my nose. Cats cross my path and prowl around me in wide circles, flicking their tails languidly in the thick air.
My thoughts wander....the warm breeze tickles my neck incessantly.
Bats block out the moon as they wing toward the shelter of the park. Their shrieks are hollow and shrill, and once I lose them in the dim sky the silence oozes around me again.
My neck flushes hot and I can still feel where your lips were, where your teeth bit in.
Aperitif.
Daylight Saving time arrives and the wait for dusk is agonizing.
Hiding behind blinds the slices of light play off my skin. I peer out from behind lidded eyes eager for the heat to melt away and leave me some peace in the brief blackness before bed.
I wander out my front gate between the rashes of lavender and the summer breeze niggles me as I place my footsteps cautiously over the ridges of cracked bitumen and swat mosquitoes away from my nose. Cats cross my path and prowl around me in wide circles, flicking their tails languidly in the thick air.
My thoughts wander....the warm breeze tickles my neck incessantly.
Bats block out the moon as they wing toward the shelter of the park. Their shrieks are hollow and shrill, and once I lose them in the dim sky the silence oozes around me again.
My neck flushes hot and I can still feel where your lips were, where your teeth bit in.