Rós

And as the music rose
the rain began to fall
turning the skin sticky
then slippery.

His voice pumping
its way into my bloodstream
deep breathing and swaying

the feeling of sheer,
exhilarating
ecstasy.

WN

It's the white noise that disturbs me.
The soft buzzing near my eardrums,
it sounds menacing. It's
so low that everything else
sounds loud,
an exaggeration.
A distant laugh,
carried by the air through open windows
and over rows and rows of balconies
with roses and magnolias.
Fabric,
gliding down skin,
leaving it bare,
hair standing on attention,
electrified.
A gulp, 
the slow turning of the neck,
fingers brushing away hair.

Breaths,
getting irregular and

more.

Still there

  It can not be helped. You can still trace its outlines, feel its edges. The tiny prick of jealousy, like a small, almost imperceptible wooden splinter, pricking through soft tissue. It comes along with questions; what girl is he taking out tonight, who did he fuck? It comes along with solid certainty, even after the realization he's opened up his mouth and blabbed about you, perhaps even unknowingly recommending you, never understanding how he's put you into the radar. Or perhaps he has.

  It's a rotten thought but knowledge often desecrates the tender moments. It bathes them in a cold, ghastly light, bares them naked and finds them wanting. Crumbling. Common. And if your memories and treasured moments are common and cheap and faked, what does that make you? People are supposed to be the sum of their memories and actions. The first is false, the second impulsive, sometimes vile, usually misguided. 

  It makes you feel an emptier version of yourself. 

  And you accept it.

  You accept the jealousy you have no reason to feel, rationalize it, dissect it. It's not what you know that haunts you. It's all the possibilities of what you don't. We're all junkies is deep down, we have that one thing we can't resist, that we'll do anything to get a dosage of.
  For me that's tenderness. The resemblance of intimacy.

*

"I can't seem to get comfortable," I said and he reached across and grabbed my arm and pulled me from the arm to lie down next to him on the couch, limbs entangled and bodies heated, pressed close. I dozed there for seconds, stayed curled and enjoyed the intimacy. The movie ended and the room grew dark, we stayed there breathing, his face buried in the back of my neck.

Pulling, pulling, teeth grazing skin, the smell of salty sweat in my nostrils, the craving for heat, for proximity, for violence, then resting.

I slipped out of the bathroom, he was fast asleep and I got dressed quietly and headed to the living room. I rolled a cigarette with the remnants of my tobacco, laid across the couch, solitary this time, drew long, burning breaths, my eyelids heavy, the cigarette slipping between my fingers. I woke up couple of hours later, he was standing above me.

"Why would you sleep here, don't you want to come inside?"
"I didn't want to disturb you."

*

  I swirled and let my eyes wander, devouring everything around, accompanied by the other senses. The touch of sand, the smell of sea, the taste of salt mixed with the sweetness of mastiha, the sound of the breeze coming from the Baltic sea and running straight into the surrounding forest. The sun never truly settled, just hid temporarily and painted the sky brilliant shades of colour, there were moments when the waves were licked golden by the light.
  I walked in the ruins and got a bit lost in them, I nearly lost my footage - had we not managed to hold on to each other in a peculiar sort of balance we would have fallen, straight into the greenish waters. We laughed about it with our heartbeats throbbing rapidly at the base of our throat.
  Heading towards the car, the others already waiting, I heard the sound of motors from the dirt path that led us down to the secret post. I looked at the low rising of earth where the came cleared, dust rising like fog, the lights of the motorcycles clearing through it as they started descending. Some ten riders, all clad from head to toe, I was breathless at the sight, my camera resting in my hands unused, I would have missed them had I tried to capture them.
  Blue eyes locked in mine from far ahead, contact broke after he passed me, I hurried to the car, my throat tightening.