salt just makes me thirsty. ironic, isn’t it? as sweet as it all tastes, as right and kissed and warmed as it all is, it still just makes me thirsty. nothing really satisfies it. nothing soothes for long. nothing but hands. you have good hands. strong. flexible. they sting with cold. they shock. maybe that’s why i love them so much.
all of this elaboration is fruitless, you know. laughable. honestly it all has me smiling. i may seep white and grey, but all i feel is good, black paths. because i can’t possibly write this. i can’t even find it. i just know it’s there. there are sweet dark eyes and questions and breath. that’s enough for now. it’s enough forever.
i can wait.
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