by Rosie Bogumil
Content warning: NSFW
two teaspoons cradle one another shifting to and fro to share in the art of spooning while wrapped in the mechanics of steady breathing. hers long and calming mine short and gasping, struck as i am by the music of life in all its sensuous symphonies. sensations of sight and sound collide: the bright pastels of her bralette as sharp as the luscious scrapings of our tongues against our teeth. i struggle to unlock the hinge reprimanding the breadth of her breasts, so she uses me as a model and with subtle sweeps of her lips she teaches me how to cuddle, how to disguise the fumbling that comes with undressing, how to show another woman that you know what you’re doing. pretending at professional is far more pleasurable. cackling cicadas serenade the virginity from our bodies while we roll over one another like playful children only with deeply adult thoughts suspended between us. once the heat of desire has cleared i turn to face her silhouette. whispered sorrys stir eddies into a fog-cloud of warmth. i missed my summer storm. i reach out a languid arm but beside me i find only an empty imprint embedded in the mattress and the whisper of a memory escaping through the window, like a shadow returning home.