California Is A Fucking Home Wrecker – by Emily Watterson

We are naked
Together
When we are fully clothed
Save exposed toes
And twenty feeble fingers
Tracing spine
And greeting our corresponding prints with
Familiar and distinct satisfaction
No sound
But the plead and pull of gravitating hips and lips
Inconveniently cracked
And revived by your invigorating stem of hand
There are no words
But frequent upward turns of moistened mouth
And the occasional clash of bare and ruthless bone
Your face rests on my unembellished shoulder blade
And it is the most intimate we have been in months
We don’t speak
But you know
That I will never say goodbye

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