Author S. K. Nicholas

To sleep without care. Folding hands and lyrical sighs. The taste of saliva. The scent of desire. Fingers and thighs, the spreading of. Leaves falling, dreams that call, and only to her. She’s the sea. The eyes in the back of your mind. Somewhere. She’s mother and whore. Beneath the sheets, she’s everything. For years, she was memory until she became memory no more. Hands on hips, you sing a lullaby. You fall as the moment comes. Embracing, suffocating. Painted nails that glow. Bodies, that link. Sparks that surge through your spine. Penetration. Outside the streetlights glow. The moon watches through the window. It gazes longingly. A hand upon her throat- a hand upon her belly. The dance that you dance, the words you speak. She’s made of sand, dissolving upon your touch. Your tongue is wine. It’s summer fruit. Her navel collects sweat. Her hands clenched, you push her down; you pluck your veins clean out. The ritual act. Beyond time and space, it conquers all. Shaking hips, and lips of flowers, of honey. Sweet as. The ridges run. Heaven sent. Through the forest, you made your way. The fucking was over, and you lost yourself. You disappeared. Branches, swamps. You were drowned, submerged. Things fall apart. But you always came around in the end. Upon a boat in the ocean, you always knew where home was. You felt it, even though it wasn’t there. You were lonely. You fell apart. But she called you back. Burning stars and the attraction of sadness. I breathe it all in. Despair as my drug. It makes me feel alive. Tristessa. Those days when couldn’t find yourself, when to breathe was out of reach. It breaks me, but it makes me. I go back to her. To the scent of decorated candles, to what love felt like. Around the quarry. Always circular, always in circles, trying to get back. Upon those fallen leaves, she sits beneath a tree. She says please. Removing her dress, I show myself for what I am. Raining, smiling. Fingers picking. She dances as you peel back your flesh. Showing truth, she clicks her fingers as your heart beats in time to hers. Soft as snow. That’s what she is. Shaking heads and limbo. Autumn leaves and purgatory. Swimming in penetration. Sleeping Souls. Eyes alive and mirrored so fine.