Believing it’s not real?
That’s control, not chaos—a ghost of something that feels a lot like the real thing.
This night will haunt him long after I’m gone,
but I refuse for it to haunt me.
Mine to conjure, his to carry.
This is me, setting myself on fire before he ever gets the chance to pour the gasoline.
A floorboard creaks upstairs,
but down here, it’s quiet.
Just Bonnie Tyler and my slamming heart.
His breath is steady. Mine is not.
Mine’s fucking feral.
Then his hand leaves me.
He brings his two fingers to his mouth,
and sucks them slow.
I narrow my eyes. “You really lickin’ your fingers clean? For me?”
“Yeah—” His mouth finds my ear, his wet fingers find my thigh. “Sonny, sei tu. Capisci? Not just some fuckin’ girl.”
Then he moves my panties to the side,
watching my face.
His head rests heavy on mine,
heat from him bleeding into me.
Then everything comes to a standstill.
Seconds pass,
a lifetime hiding between them,
the wait for his touch unbearable.
We’re two bodies thawing in a slow drip…
Drip.
Drip.
I stir in his arms, desperation clawing at me.
Drip.
I drop my head back against his shoulder,
