Clean, Sweaty SkinIt's July 2011. I'm standing in a cold, arid barracks shower scraping dirt off freshly coral sun-glazed skin. I have been looming in an ineffably murky fog, now broken clear by rays of fresh sunlight. A pseudo-masculine adrenaline coursing through my veins after pushing the pedals of a mountain bike for several hours.Steamy heat is tracing sticky want all over my body, watching through the window outdoors where you sit on a bench patiently, unknowing that I am merely 30 feet away, bare and exposed. Although you are turned slightly away, I can see in your eyes a distracted and distant twitch, unfamiliar to me in those early moments where I first knew you. A faltering vulnerability, a crack in a glass pane that gives those who really possess the desire to see inside... to see trouble, to see longing, to see dreams. To see a mirror reflecting adventure and hope in the midst of fear. To see a lighthouse shining into a patch of cold, obscure darkness, pulling in safely a strong, stu
A Story of LovePen to the paper when I first saw your smile,heart sinking to my gut, splashing in my bile.First piece of prose, first page I wroteKissed me in the winter and that heart began to float.I write it all in black ink, no erasers wanted here.Don't need a tube of white-out to keep my story clear.I kiss you in an airport, I kiss you in the dark.Kiss you in Spain's ocean or even Perú's Kennedy Park.Held taut in your arms as I jotted another line,another paragraph folding between your hand and mine.A page blanketing our bodies, spilling fancy words,about fiery passion between two helpless nerds.But the story is on hold. The author sits in tears.She doesn't know the characters,just their deepest fears.