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orange by learningtobefree, literature
Literature
orange
when the sun leaks blood orange,
i always find it best to lie in the trunk of the car
with the windows up.
the steam condensates the crevices of his face,
my fingers gather dew drops and salt;
saturday and drizzle drip down the glass
as he rests inside of me on a metal bed.
he rocks me back and forth like a gentle seaside awakening,
a shipwreck too close to shore for saving, and my hands
search for sails we never cast.
there is passion in this shake:
my thighs spread like spread thighs,
his sweat smeared against my mouth.
bunching white fabric between my knuckles,
i hear a train screeching against the tracks in front of us and i im
turkey butch blues by consolecadet, literature
Literature
turkey butch blues
when you press yourself against the door as you unlock it,
it is almost as though you are making love to it
when you lotion the cold turkey-fat parts of your body
the hands you use are not quite the same as the ones you use to rub tension out of your new shoulders
always remember to close the blinds
when the light outside is less than the light inside
someone might be looking in