I Know It’s Hard, Baby (audio)
Amazing written and verbal poetry by a talented writer.
Crisp white wine, crystal blue water, and the kind of existential angst which feels so familiar as to almost have become my signature vibe. Summer skin and the warm scent of coconut oil. He tugs me close, turns me around, and ties the strings of my bikini bottoms back together after having untied them an hour or so ago when passion had blossomed, lush and intimate, into an entire mood of late afternoon desire.
When we make love, it’s like a kind of smoldering apocalypse, everything comes crumbling so beautifully, ruinously down, down, down. Out here on the water, the sway of the boat on the rolling swells rocks us hypnotically into a place where alone means something you can reach out and touch, a kind of freedom you can almost hold onto forever.
He says something innocent and filthy that makes me laugh and I turn up the music…
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