Like A God Tonight

There are things that make me feel like a God tonight: the cappuccino of your eyes pouring over the cream of my skin, the froth that rises from how our bodies rise, spooning waves riding a rhythm our sighs create.

Our hearts touch palms in the dark, the same way I open for you, show you all I know how to do is receive, rise, reverberate the sound of your whispers through my spine. 

Tonight we are bookends, tightening around the gap of time before we were here last, squeezing the pulp of our absence and feeding it to eachother like liquor. You coat my throat with the tendrils of your fingers and I wish I could keep you here, your hands are so much of who you are. The grooves on the pads of your fingers that remember the first time you fisted a girls hair like flowers, the ache for me coloring you scarlet tendons before you touch me. 

We exist in Polaroids in my head when you’re rattling through me with the storm of your hips. The windows of my eyes flash open and rake you up in buckets, the beds of my nails collect the flesh of your back and paint you in lines through the tremors of my curves. 

We are Gods tonight, in the grass in your yard while the breeze rocks the porchswing we were just resting on. The moon is listening, it knows we are a language of windchimes and fever, turbulence and the womb sound of being under water. 

We entangle like the roots below our bodies, connective gnarls that curl their way across an expanse to hold weight freely, to cradle the ground with nothing but shape. The joints of my fingers knot in your hair as the rest of your fist slips through the wake of my thighs. Something inside me howls against your shoulder and my teeth scrape your skin, your voice feels it, something in your throat runs down my neck like a marble and quiets in the dirt.

We are stillness and staccato, a breach past a barrier that broke through timber like small splinters. 

I hold onto the blades of grass like they were a righteous answer to the husk of you asking me if I’m going to come, if it’s for you and only you. I stare over your shoulder, flash my eyes at the stars and count the spaces between while something inside lets go deep. My legs wrap you like a serpent and in this tangle, we are free.