Creative Writing, OldVenue

Creative Writing: If only we were stick men

The day before is full of ambition,
magazine cut outs and
aspirations.

Legs tangled
we trip over each other and you hurt your back,
I kneel in the wrong place and you wince
until I kiss it better.
Writhing
I feel our sticky
rub rub
not like linen, but like
Course, st-stuttering plastic, silicone skin,
your clammy fingerprints catching on mine
Hot hairs standing on end
with a mute O.
You sexily try to tell me where to move,
an interruption, we both know,
awkward, stop, start, feet, chest,
legs, head,
where
i try to remember the diagrams
so do you, i can see you
piecing me together
but I don’t bend that way
you’re not strong enough either.
You catch my eye
with my legs over my head
and you standing upside down
and we pause a moment, trying to hold it together,
wanting it to be as easy as the pages
made it look,
like melted chocolate,

until

we b-r-e-a-k
and fall back to the bed,
laughing.

11/11/2014

About Author

emilyfedorowycz



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