You promised to fulfill my dreams between powdered lines and lost time as we sat on the floor at 2AM. Shot glasses tumbled as I fumbled for the bottle stashed between the couch cushions. But that elusive bottle came up empty, just like your eyes when you realized I was done. And you left me to rise from that dirty floor with my broken dreams alone.

#microwrite #amwriting #fiction

Danger was her name

passion was her game.

Her nights were like grand hotels

where the rooms

were always available

to the men she loved

and loved well.

Drips of passion awakening lust

moist mouths and pink tongues

fingers touching, bodies wet

entwined like twisted ropes

of lustful body parts and pieces

no beginning, no end, everlasting.

The greed, the thirst, the yearning

the price was never too much

gifts freely given for her beauty.

But the cost they would pay

unbeknownst to feckless men

was the loss of their lives

for when she was through

she smiled as she bit

with pearly white teeth

necks offered in fervor

carotid artery exposed.

Blood flowed on sheets

and once again

her rooms

were always available.

numbing

edge of day

*

cranberry

smeared lips

swallow

charred words

-letters

coil up

my esophagus-

stretched chords

in sweeping

pitches

drip

bittersweetness.

*

black silk

shift dress

rumpled -split

closures

- impassionly-

encrusted lines

drilled by

diamonds

slope

and

slant-

mingling

half dollar

plumps

in iris tones

on apricot canvas.

*

star-dew

wishes

dotting

chipped sapphire

sky-

muted.

©️ Meg. December 3, 2918.

as we walk through the city

exhausted to the point of pleasure

carrying the golden sweat of the dying sun on our shoulders

i think about the gifts the summer gave me

i think about the blue conversations, late at night, voices dissolving in the lingering heat

i think about the pleasure of going home

i think about your naked body lying on cold tiles

i think about the exquisite crime of eating a peach

i think about the many pauses for ice cream

i think about the sweat darkening the hair at the back of your neck

i think about the taste of love, in the warmest hours of the afternoon

i think about the glasses of wine and the taste of rum on your lips

i think about the endless wanderings in a city we can't seem to get tired of

i think about the light cascading on our tangled bodies as we lay under the trees

i think about my sun soaked skin, darkening with happiness

someday from now

when the city turns blue and cold

i will lay at night in bed

and try to keep myself warm

with the gifts the summer gave me

In early fall, you said you’d call me near,

And tell me toiling trials inside your mind.

A cutthroat gift, of words you cannot find,

An endless game of “say it next week” fear.

Once soft, now painful, dry and sharply clear

That feelings can be packaged, but the bind,

So rough and careless, fully silver line’d,

Is bursting tunes of erroneous leer.

Because, you think a different way by now,

And turn those trials on tails to run away;

You give the tender truth a gleeful bow,

And sit, with gentle hunched resolve you stay.

Yet, now I am so cruel, another trial,

Because your gift causes my denial.

The craving between my legs is spiteful. It crashes through me with no regard. A hurricane in my heart that is only aching for calm. Raging waves of blood rushing through my veins like liquid fever. And the heat is unbearable. So my heart gives in to the cataclysm. And the exploding tide pulls me under.

Their kiss started out gentle and unhurried, but soon became a passionate exchange of reserved lust. It tasted distinctly of the rosé wine they'd shared earlier, further pushing their lips to tangle together. As the kiss became more heated, the lovers shed their clothing, one piece at a time. Deeper and deeper, they sunk into their private respite, one where they could forget everything outside their love. Gazing into one another's eyes, the blown pupils gleaming like twinkle lights, the lovers finally melded. The couple joined, bodies nearly overheating; a sharp contrast to the frigid snow outdoors. Throughout the night, desire rose in a crescendo of pleasure. Over and over again.