Saturday, August 13, 2016
what it is
the first thing that comes to my mind is the softness of his arms. the way they formed around me, perfect, tailor-made. solid. when i rested my lead-heavy head onto his chest, becoming enveloped by the warmth, vibration, heartbeat. the hair and air and skin and muscles and tendons and bones melting away into nothing. becoming distilled into something primal, living in the seconds between the seconds within the seconds. civilizations born and rising and dying on the outside and it would not be bad or okay but just be. a transcendent mediation that would only be broken with a human sigh, or a gentle borborigmo, or perhaps the start of soft, soft snoring.
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