witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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I draw back the covers, letting such an icy breeze spill in that we both shiver so violently, it forces our bodies to peel away from one another.

For a moment, though, all of that sweat, and hot dense breath, and moans, and ball of flesh had condensed to create a single, sticky, solitary mass; table for one, please.

I'm up and walking away--is what I think, but I'm too caught within the tentacles of these blankets, like seaweed, wrapped around my ankles. I surrender to this sea bed. It syncs me and I willingly drown.

My hair falls on your chest; a messy scatter of curls. "Like mermaid hair," you say.

Above ground, we are under the sea, where even our screams sound sweet.
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10:37 a.m. - Friday, Mar. 25, 2011

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