Inked night
Slipping into the tired heated bed
Bodies separated by hollow sound and hollow space
Minds attempting to communicate, glaring at each other through our night vision

Is touch all we need.
It wasn’t thunder love or lightning tears
It wasn’t first walk or first breath
it wasn’t.
There was thrusting bed night thumping but it wasn’t special yet.
It was a mutual agreement of nervous ecstasy and temporary memory.

Done after a few humps.
Building up more of a relationship with the pillow than the body
Awake to find that body is still breathing next to you. FUCK.

Silence as the thoughts of last night leaves cavities and they find a place in the bed between our wet hungry tongues.
Then the lights go on and the gates of mumbling awkward voice thrust us away from each other
The sun shines through onto the bed, illuminating the curved bodies. Distant.


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