In the Far Reaches
In the far reaches of her mind, down beyond the twisting divide, a silken box bakes in haze. It holds her desire. It quivers, puddles, and bubbles at the top. It could burst, throwing hope limitless into the future.
He cannot quench her desire without giving himself to her, something he will not do. He does not trust what's inside of himself, an angry little boy.
How he fears that she gives herself to other men, ravishing them with her tongue, stroking with slender hands, her mouth on other hair, other flavors. How he hates.
He buys her desperate gifts. They, like their plastic wrapping, are destined to turn slow circles in the doldrums of the ocean.
---
He cannot quench her desire without giving himself to her, something he will not do. He does not trust what's inside of himself, an angry little boy.
How he fears that she gives herself to other men, ravishing them with her tongue, stroking with slender hands, her mouth on other hair, other flavors. How he hates.
He buys her desperate gifts. They, like their plastic wrapping, are destined to turn slow circles in the doldrums of the ocean.
---
Labels: from the notebooks
posted by JMH | 8:53 PM
6 Comments:
Awwww. This is bittersweet.
wow.
You are probably writing this in retrospect, but that's how I think now.
I didn't know there could be a box big enough to hold her desire.
Hello. I like your stuff.
sybil - sure is.
Peau - wow yourself.
jorg - It's good to have people who think like you do.
Stella - Certainly not. But it is a huge box.
Sack - thanks. I'll check out what you have to say.
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