Sexual Musings :: Burnt

Sexual Musings :: Burnt

“In this moment, I am pale calves covered in graham cracker sand and coral painted shoulder blades from a day in Midwest heat. I can’t find my voice to ask, but if you were to reach over and touch me, you’d feel a rippling current of raw electricity under your hands; a burning edge arcing with sparks, a passion dark as the clouds building above our heads. It’s almost as if I’ve gone too long living at the rim, tucked between these silver fields and safe under my hovering stars, to remember how to ask: ‘Do you want me?’

Maybe, in this moment, I don’t want the answer. Maybe I just need the way the birds keep whispering our names and the spin of the sun between the trees.”