DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
He had never been certain as to why she couldn’t see he was nothing. He was no different from hordes of other warriors, scraping away at their banners, striving to remember how to live into the beyond with their ghosts, dissolving under the weight of too many fathoms and delusions. He was no different from the cruel, beckoning hands of greed and irreverence, kindling eager to be incited and unleashed. He was no different from the hundreds of other abandoned weapons, struggling to find their niche when the rest of the world toppled or moved on, begging to their gods, and the blackguards aware that there were none left for them to savor. He was no different from all the other lost souls who’d failed and persevered, who’d tried and tried again, hanging their heads, shuffling their feet, spiraling back to catacombs and sepulchers, waiting for their time, their moment, to cross rivers with gold on their empty sockets. But he wanted her like she was the last thing on earth and she kept looking at him as if he was worth something; no matter how often he shook his head and declared himself undeserving, unfit, for even the smallest token of her affections. There was need, there was want, and there were endless possibilities, and he yearned for them all, crawling along the crag, the rocks, like a bottom dweller, like a seething, clawing fool, and she kept giving it to him, kept imploring, kept redefining his edges and his fringes until he wasn’t sure what he was anymore.
Just that she was the sun and he’d willingly burn away in her warmth.
She grinned at his ruse, at his deception, amused for a moment in their disastrous game; only because he knew how to play, how to extort, how to savage. Perhaps he was being teased and tormented too, as she spun before him, not touching, not caressing, not unfolding or breaking, begging, treating his frame the same way he had done hers, with such a molten rasp of lust that he nearly let her have him right then and there – a go ahead almost rumbling from his chest. For an instant, their gaze simmered and smoldered together, not a single word exchanged, not a phrase uttered, every meaning conveyed in that sanction, along the threshold, within the world they’d created for themselves.
Then she offered her arms, raising them high enough so the breastband loosened, so her drawers were low, so everything was a providence, take take take in their wild candor, wanton and stripped down to the core of their existence. He does just that.
It was a careful, meticulous maneuver, slow and fluid, stretching out the delicate threads of the moment, yours and yours and yours on his hooded gaze as his fingers slipped over the fabric hiding the rest of her to him – first the band, waiting until it was released, tossed aside, before his mouth descended over hers. It was hungry and voracious, vehement and ardent, while his hands reached down, tugging at the rest of her clothing until they slipped down her legs, stripped and bare and he was barely breathing, pulling away only to gasp on their edges, maneuvering her closer to the tub, to the promises melted in between.
Unite and spread the heart apart
