That time, I could only bring myself to hold her pinky, although I had a gushing waterfall within.
Now is the time for drought, there is nobody; save myself and yellow earth —
Cracked and lined,
openings on the sand like dry lips agape and gasping for a single drop.
My love? I would describe it as generous.
People come and go like waves:
be they friends, bitter feelings, hunger, or the smoke of that stunner I saw walking through the park:
tall, skin tinted, and deep blues in her braids, and eyes twinkling —
As If she were about to do a magic trick and disappear.
Truly, they come, and certainly they go —
like the smoke that curled from her nose, that black dragon.
No, I dreamt her.
A pathetic stream is trickling from the well, it is my awakening desire.
The drought is ending, but I refuse to look at the modest gush,
I drown it out: the trickle of running water
I numb it to the back of my head.
If you come, I am skilled at draping you with light blue affection,
it will feel like silk, and it will suit you well.
And if you go, I'll release you graciously,
with a warm demeanor like light purple,
you'll step out the doorway and be wondering at the smell of lavender
But, no matter what, you mustn’t look back.
I'll lay in bed and wish that I had a dragon to lay up against.
Or sometimes she'll let me embrace her in exchange for a little blood from my neck,
or sometimes she's a great man-eating beast, but we take turns feasting.
I only want bashful things, like holding her full hand in mine,
or placing my head in the crook of her neck.
I lay next to her, she has scales but she is soft.
She is infinite — the sight of her never ends.
I only want modest things, like gazing into her eyes
while lifting her thighs and [parting them]
Or [sucking her breast] until delirious.
Kissing her cheek, we both look to the trickle of flowing water with slight embarrassment.
But I dreamt her.
Edited by: Ava Emilione
Find Moses (he/him) on Instagram at @imaani.yuu
Find Ava Emilione (they/she) on Instagram @ordinaryavaa