Twilight Desires
Yearning in the borderlands
I walk into the daydream and wander a landscape of lovely hip dips and rippled flesh dimples imperfect folds and flaps touching mine. I imagine what it would mean to be held what it would mean for her to pin my hands above my head and push me against the wall what is the desire not named, not imagined chimera bone on bone, wings, beaks a collection of parts of fantasy cryptid creatures of lore. The lore is my own, living in my head in the pineal gland accessed only on the edge of sleep slip under to feel the embrace of mother, strong nurturing arms, cradling and stabilizing bind me to the ground, sit down a firm hand feeds me soup, leaves imprints on my desirous flesh, wanting. I want to be taken beyond myself, beyond where I go alone to the borderlands, the thicket on the edge of town borderline desire of twilight, the line, the bleed, the flash of green the queerest time of day. I don’t yet discern between blue and green don’t recognize your face in the shadows as it takes shape planes and angles, a brow ridge, cheeks, handsomely full lips you bite. I don’t know if you’re looking at me with skepticism or uncertainty. perhaps you see the tentativeness in my face my flesh firm or yielding, a tower or a door. You decide-- it matters in the approach. Knock first. Sing at my window. Or: I peer out and fix my gaze, remember we were all babes once in trembling touch. Be careful now, but not too soft.
