keep art alive; art by 2h(from my work-in-progress
something)there was that boy, the one who liked to lift my skirt slightly and slip his fingers inside my panties, watch me shudder while he moved inside of me, i told him the story while we sat on the sand. his fingers were in my hair, or grabbing at the cigarette i was sharing with him. his touch was always such a distraction to me. he pulled my hair back roughly, just enough to get my attention and he said with his eyes slightly wet,
"maybe you saw the rest of your life that day."he was dark that way, though, just the way i liked them. boys with cloudy rainy souls and needs too deep to fill; a touch of pain in everything they came near, in everything they touched. i rolled my eyes and pulled just enough away to feel the tug on my hair again, i could feel myself sinking into the sand, and the ocean she just watched it all. later in my car, my body crammed in between that gap between the seats, and my legs spread painfully apart, as he pounded into me. i felt myself disappearing as i tended to do during these encounters, my breath would catch and stick somewhere deep inside me, and i would think to myself
"right now i wish i could scream so loud it would break the windows. so loud that i'd finally wake up."lucy.
Comments (9)