you're too young & eager to love

I hope you're happy, now that you're choosing this.

Tell them how I am defying gravity.



I used to be able to write well, you know, back in the day.
I hate you fickle, fickle talent. You uppity bitch, you.

(I think these were supposed to be Emere.)

There’s somebody beside you, and you’ve forgotten his name.

He breathes too loudly. The sharpness of his ribcage is distracting, like the tattoos that trail up his junkie arms. Somewhere along the way you got lost in that ink, instead of taking a taxi back to 47th. Now you’re missing your shoes; you drank away the last of your dignity ten hours ago.



---



Sudden heat. You’re missing the sounds of her again.

She rustled and whispered. A fleeting, obscure pattern of sound – even her movements were timid. The way she traced the contours of your face. That nightingale gasp of desire from the back of her throat.