What It Feels Like To Be Held By You

I love when you press your hands against mine, our palms enjoying a negative distance, smiling at how uneven they are. Your eyes caressing mine through blinks that make my stomach churn, creating kaleidoscope roads without exit. You never let them leave. You make them stay, grow larger until they are all over my body.

We turn into a private garden where only we can play, where it’s safe to run around and fall knowing that our bodies mold each other like clay. Your arms wrapped around me, my arms wrapped around yours, legs locked like unbreakable chains, skin to skin as if we’re about to melt together and sink in a bowl of plain vanilla ice cream, but you don’t like vanilla.

You prefer chocolate, dark chocolate.

Bitter sweet taste resulting in deep pleasure, teaspoons of sugar but less flavor. More taste, more experience, more skin. Lips tucking in each other, tongue slipping, arms grasping, nails scratching. You held me strangely. Your hands groping my neck, slapping my cheeks, pulling my hair, kissing, pushing, hugging, ravaging each other in an off-beat romantic language we never even spoke of.

Our bodies conversed like a song, hard and fast. Exchanging spontaneous lyrics we spit, swallowed slowly to enjoy the flavor. Hands so tight they leave bruises and kisses stamped too much to create marks. You held me roughly. You punished me. You clenched me in intriguing pressure that brought me to an imaginary paradise.

Whenever you run your fingers over my throat before you press them lightly, every time you grab my hair and spread your lips all over my exteriority, I lose track of time and place. Sometimes I don’t even know why I am spending time with a body I don’t know too well, but I’ve touched so much.

My hands could never unlearn what they’ve grasped, my tongue could never vomit something dainty. I wish my eyes could neglect all this naughtiness, but my body says otherwise. I put my hands up and surrender like I’ve done it a thousand times. I wake up to a scandal, a lasting set of pictures that run through my head, your voice echoing in my darkest thoughts. I realize I am no longer the same skin.

You dissolve me with marshmallows, brownies, and nuts. I’ve turned into the chocolate you’ve always wanted. Held me without cup or cone, your bare hands squeezing, letting me drip and slip around you. No space, no air, no gap. Our bodies twisted together like straws, bed sheets, and threads. No boundaries, no time, no limits. We liquefy ourselves into fictitious corners we pretend to have. Legs on top of one another, arms clasped against each other, lips biting continuously they’ve gone too red to speak.

Though our tongues never form to chat, our bones hanging in ropes, this is what we do. I hate to admit, but I must confess how blazed I am, how intimidating and rudely sexy it is to be held by you.