Early Morning

Tug:

There's this constant tug with you. I can't date. I won't date. I forgot how to date. I hate to date. But, with you I want to date. I'm comfortable to date, and could live in your sheets.

Kiss:

We never do it. I never crave them because with you I'm no leech. I can't suck the life from you because you give it to me with no reluctance. You kiss me before you cum like you love me and I kind of hate it. No lip locking, no trouble.

Hands:

Yours drift softly across my stomach, and mine pull at the sheets. Your fingertips are full of life and lust. After I cum my hand rests on your chest and my fingers wander towards your shoulder. My fingers are tingling as I run them across your soft skin. Your hand rests on my body like I was satisfying, like you want more.

Lips:

I bite mine. I bite yours. They smile and they live on your body. They're chapped, but you still always need them. Yours tease me. They hover above my own and always I lunge for the finish.

Legs:

They never fall asleep and they're always in the air. You bite them and through the seering pain I smile and lick my lips because it's hot. The air is always warm when we're together.

Trouble:

You mean no harm. I mean nothing short of harm. I want you, and I want you to tell me you want me. I want to bring you trouble. You play it safe. I'm too wild. I see it in your eyes, I taste it on your skin. You want trouble, too.

Eyes:

It's always too dark. Occasionally you'll turn on the lights, and it makes me feel inadequate. We shut our eyes. We take turns watching. We're afraid to look into the others. We're hungry for the truth.

Alcohol:

You wear it so well. I love it on your breath. I love to lay down when you're inebriated. I love it when you run your lines across me, when you jump, when there's no bull shit. I love it when you're you.

Heart:

When we're all finished and you lay next to me I feel it through the matress. I feel it in your breath. Mine races next to yours.

Toes:

They curl with every touch. They flex when I'm happy and tired. Yours tickle my legs signaling for me to be ready.

Tongues:

Yours runs across my chest and licks my nipples. It makes me crave you. I adore when a drop of spit falls off the tip onto my own tongue. I couldn't find anything more sickeningly sweet.

Breath:

Into my ear you speak no words. It's hot and steamy. Air billows onto me and it forces me to breathe heavy. Days later when I rewind I'm instantly horny. I've never heard music as sweet as your racing breath against my body.

Sex:

The crashing of our bodies. the synching of our lips. the bruising in the morning. the internal bliss. No lesson is ever learned. We're never finished. This part I can't put into words.

Sleep:

We're never without eachother. We've cum. We haven't finished.



Answer:

I ask so many questions, and I call upon so many 'wise' people, but no one really knows the answer. I've always had the answer with you, but it's mission impossible. I tirelessly fight for something I'm sure will never come. You tireless fight to make sure you cum. No, I'm not in love with you. No, I don't like the Rose Parade. No, I'm not attached. I say No, because of you. I see it in you. I only hear from 'wise' ones that 'that's weird.' We see it. I know you're broken, but hey, I'm broken too. I'm not looking to be fixed, and neither are you. We're fucked, so we fuck. We love, so we fuck.

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I woke up this morning with some sort of massive explosion in my head. Some sort of I-should-have-drank-50-beers-last-night-headache. I wasn't grouchy becuase I'd gotten my fix. I was of course dumbfounded by the nights happenings, but what girl isn't. Jade, my usual sleeping partner, wakes my lazy ass up. I stretch and state that I'm fucking not ready to get up. I start to tell the story from the previous night and of course she says: He's in love with you. Why don't you two just get married already? I laugh, like always. Since Chris you're the longest lasting relationship I've had. But, who can really call such a thing a relationship?

You were at the bar. I was at home. I lied and said I was at a friends because you seem to have this awful hate for when I'm at home. I'll be there around 1130 with a bag of weed and a more than ready body. I call when I park on Main and there's no answer. I begin to panic and hope you find that you've missed my call soon.

Your picture pops up on my phone screen and I'm relieved.

Hello?
You're whispering, and it's adorable.
Hey. What are you doing?
I reply in a normal tone. I don't know how to be adorable.
I'm sitting in my car. Well, actually it's Jade's car.
Where are you?
I'm across the street from the 711.
I don't see you.
Well, I'm on the street behind the 711.
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
I hang up and walk towards you. I see you and I smile. It'd be much too simple if I could just hide behind a barren face, but I'm wonderful at making things hard. You're drunk. I'm not talking about you're a hot bitch lets fuck on the couch sort of drunk, but a good drunk. The kind that laughs and makes every girl horny. We sit down and turn on adult swim. It's almost always our channel of choice. Something neither one of us has seen is on, so we decide to smoke during the show. I clean out your bowl and you pack it. You let me have green hit.

When you ask me things your voice changes. It's sweeter and richer.
So, I know this is going to sound stupid and I already know the answer but when a bowl is cashed does that just mean that everything is grey and ash?
Well, not necessarily. That's usually like an indicator, but sometimes there's still green in the bowl underneath the ash. Really it's just when you try to hit it and nothing comes through.
Ah, that makes sense becuase in the middle and on the bottom there can still be stuff to smoke.

We finish smoking. I lay back. You get up to break the seal. I put up my hood. I don't know why. It feels right. You come back.
Haha. Why is your hood up?
I don't know! haha.
OMG! Let me see that ring haha.
I'm wearing this ring I've had for ages. It's basically a huge flower made of tarnished metal and turquoise. It's my favorite. I hand over my hand.
Where'd you get this?
I don't know. I've had it since I was like 12. I really don't remember where I bought it.
At a flea market?
Haha, I really don't know.

He's amazed by the ring. He tells me I should have a better story to tell people. That, when objects have a story behind them they inpact people more. They leave more of an impression on people. I know it's true, but i'm speechless. I know no story to tell, and it makes me feel stupid. This is my chance to let you in. You want me to let you in. I fail.
You should tell people when they ask that like your grandma gave it to your mother when something happened and that your mother was only to give it to her daughter when the same thing happened to her.
But, I have a sister.
Well, the oldest daughter. Wait, are you the oldest? I'm just assuming.
Yea, I'm the oldest.
We both sort of laugh at this, but for no real reason.
Well, when I think of an amazing story I'll tell you first even though you know the real story. You can tell me if it's good enough to tell other people.
Ok, we can make it this on going thing. Just text me or call me when you think of something.
I smile because it's this sweet gesture. This opening. I don't consider the fact that in the morning it won't much matter because by then he'll have forgotten. Because, if I were to text him right now with a perfect story I really doubt he'd give a shit. But, no one at all says that disappoints me.

We start to watch the show with the meatball as I describe it to Jade. There's new characters that neither one of us recognize. We try to watch it but neither one of us can follow what's happening. He gets up and says,
Do you wanna go to my room?
I, of course, would be very obliged to. I stand up and hop on his bed. My pupils adjust and I see there's a notebook, his guitar, and an Elliott Smith record on the bed.
Oh, shit. Watch the record.
I know.

Elliott Smith is something beyond words. I loved him before you, but I love him more now with you. I recall the time you sang rose parade to me and my temperature rises a bit. You clear off the bed and I climb into your huge comforter. A kings bed you called it once and you were right. I'm still wearing every article of clothing that I entered the apartment in. A tank top, a dress, a hoodie, and checkered blue and white underwear. I forgot how to impress. You forgot to care. You get up to use the bathroom. I lazily lay and position myself so hopefully the light hits me and you find me pretty. You come back and I've given up on being pretty so my entire body is covered by your comforter.
What are you doing?
Nothing. I've got to pee.
I got to the bathroom and there's no toilet paper. Oh, boys. Typically theres some stashed away that I can just grab from the closet, but none to be found tonight. I walk back down the hallway, which always makes me feel like an elephant from all the creeking.
Do you have any toilet paper?
Uh, this is going to sound weird but while I was at the bar my roommate told me to get some toilet paper. I've got some in my pocket.
I laugh and probably look at him like what the fuck, but it's really just cute. I come back and am more than ready for the rest of the night.

You're laying in your boxers. I love your body. You're covered in tattoos. I want to be covered in you. You dive in. Unsual.

Immediately my blood flow quickens and I'm hungry for you. It's selfish, but I love to curl my body into yours and lay there while you pleasure me. You always let me. I always let you. I turn so I can open my legs. I want to guide you but I love to let you guide yourself. You take my hand, and that means it's time to be selfless. I love your penis. I can't say that for anyone really. I guess you're lucky.

We put pressure on eachother. We get our breath going. We get eachother ready. I love to watch you prepare. You're drunk. I'm selfish. You straddle me. You dick is on my chest. You're rubbing against me. I'm fucking ready, but the anticipation is beautiful. You jerk off in front of me and I swear it's all I need to cum.

Finally we're ready. My fingers are tingly and im lightheaded. Neither is bad. I'm on my stomach. At first it's not at the right angle. It hurts a little, but initial insertion I swear is always heavy. We fix the problem and you flip me over. I love when I'm almost in the fetal position and you're fucking me. I love when you're inside of me.

I'm never loud. That's just not me. Tonight though, I praise you. You're doing beautifully. You raise my leg and you bite my calf. It hurts, but I love it when you dish out pain. It's so delicious with you. Pleasure and pain mix like ice cream and apple pie.

We twist around in several different positions. We master one and move on. It's constant excitement. You're on top. Your arm is pushing against the wall. My left leg is resting in your elbow. You're going at a perfect pace. It's hitting me where I can't help but let you know I love it. You get close and whisper
I'm going to cum inside of you.
I squeeze his hips, which i almost always have a hold of. Resistance is not an option. I'm hungry to see you finish. I love to open all my sense when I know you're ready. You kiss me hard. Your tongue shares your spit with me. I love that. You dominate me. I hear your breath thicken. I see your body clench. I listen to your moans. I want to cum with you.

I feel you finish inside of me. You stay inside. I like it when you do that. When you dont immediately pull out.

We lay down fingertips grazing eachother. My body is rushing with endorphines. You fall asleep and still moan a little. We wake up and take bathroom turns.

Your roommate calls and I can tell you're emberassed to leave. I'd rather sleep here, but know becuase I'm not permanent I should just go. I get dressed and we walk together. I tell you about the concert and the fight I saw the night before. We are going seperate ways. I don't remember exactly but I know someone is supposed to text someone. I drive home still high. Still satisfied.