You hand me a beer, without asking, and I’ll never refuse. I watch the level of hops deplete, slipping down my throat, somewhere past my heart, burning organs. At the bottom, made of glass, we see ourselves. You ask me to stay the night, I do. The warmth of your body under sheets curled up into my flesh, is more comforting. It’s a blazing fire more profound than the liquor that burns my throat.

I stare at his lips and want to kiss him. Shake out the frustration and confusion with the flick of my tongue against his. There are other names that live there and I can taste them so I devour them all. They stain my teeth like red wine and black coffee. What’s a part of you, is now a part of me. I allow myself to swallow his questions, his fears, his eyes, the constellations and galaxies of freckles I’ll collide into. Allow it all to swallow me whole. His body’s topography are mountains I want to climb into, a volcano just waiting to erupt and I’m happy to get lost among the rocks and rivers.

Ache – in desire, curiosity, restlessness for rough hands scraping skin flakes, silently, off my cheek.