Rope
Bridge
outer-space. Unconsciously she collected
spit
inside her mouth, so the words would not be rioting
with the
tongue in cohesion, and as she spoke to his
paleshiny eyes, the
crystal clearness of her message
even rose the tiniest hair on her
back in a shuddering
spasm, which was invisible. The two-word-demon hung
between them, like a rope-bridge, on which he –
non-skeptically, but spontaneously aroused – now stepped
closer, balancing the naked truth with a smile and
all blue finally brightening his eyes.
Fuck me.
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