witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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Sharing my favourite books with you feels like a blood pact between our brains. My neurons entangle around yours, like roots suffocating and pulling down the tree they helped surface. I bring you to my underground—deliberately revealing the shortcuts through the maze of my thoughts. Old wooden doors swing open with a yawning creak. You’ve pored over the same words now, touched me in places mapped out by a me unknown to myself. Our minds, pregnant with the same characters and world, pulsate in sync. I feel more exposed than standing in front of you naked. Flesh, I can tell you not to touch. But my thoughts escape me. Materialize into the silhouette of a woman on glossy, silk sheets. Waiting for you to penetrate.

9:53 p.m. - Tuesday, Feb. 07, 2017

Then - Now