hagiography

the autogeography of a no/body

Jul 20

him

Yes, yes, I was talking to my lover, a man I have spent nearly twenty years of my life with, and he is away, breastless, breathless, without the comfort of my nipple. Oftentimes my arm is crooked under his head, in that space between his neck and his skull, while he suckles, drawing me into his mouth, indicating his desire for relief against my outer thigh. Of course, it is always a half question, his erection, re/questing an entrance, a seclusion, against this dark world.

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