Actually, if anyone is looking for honesty, it's not just today. It's steady every-almost-day for the last however many days (16 or 4). It's the implanted, vibrating image of your curves. The paling softness of your thighs. The quiet motions, the gasping breath. Your words, even.
But today, right now: I have peeled off the barriers separating your skin from mine. It is winter, of course, and piles of clothing litter the floor around us. My bare feet are pushing against the hardwood floors, the fire is weakening, your breath is quick.
When I arch my hips ever so into yours, I hear your breath catch itself in your throat.
You don't try to hide it.
I am the one hiding things, but the transparency circling around us leads you to your own versions of my truths, anyway.
So unbelievably beautiful, these images I carry with me. Completely alluring.
You've made my thinking crowded.
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