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Burning | Kenneth Hickey

    In the greyness before, when I’m alone with the greyness, and this burning inside, and the time, the time till I see her again, I wait. I wait. Strange images dancing around me my head broken, I can taste her still, and I wait. I wait until that appointed hour, that shitty little second, till I see her. Alone, the two of us in the little room, the heavy curtains blocking out the air, just our panting, and we move closer, fumbling, fumbling, pulling buttons open, losing control of hand and mouth and tongues, and the heavy air, and the heavy air between us. I’m no longer there in that moment, my head is gone, my body moves with it’s own precision. I’m in her eyes, all of me in her eyes, as I stare brightly back through tight curls of a blond head.

     And then the underneath, drawn from her, no longer looking in her, looking upon her, the soft tenderness where fingers run, looking for an opening, looking for the chance, and it’s slippery, and it’s wet. Well I can taste her, taste every piece of her, soft sheet beneath me, as I move closer still. The worthless pieces thrown aside, the garment I no longer want, the robe I have no use for. I am with her, and closer, and closer, forgotten those lost grey moments when we were apart, and the burning between me even harsher, and she asks, and I refuse. She asks again and I refuse, simply to play with her, and then asked again I give in, and crumble, entering and we are joined, one, moving against each other, slowly. Slowly. And again I’m in her eyes, no thought, no thinking, no words, no phrases, no sounds, just us, and what we have become.

     I rub my hand around her soft breast, push my hand against her hard thigh, and move, just us, and we build, create, construct higher and higher, until the tallest building, and then there perched on the highest vantage, the waves come rolling in around me, pulling brick from brick until nothing remains, except crashing hot running sound, and the passing destruction, and in those seconds, it is all gone, all gone, nothing remains but desolation, sweet oblivion, complete abandon, no more touch, no more sight, no more sound, no more taste, nothing left to hear. I no longer exist, and then she comes rushing in again around me, heavy breaths in my ear, and we lie exhausted, softly touching, until bringing each other back to the real world, the world of drinks, and cheese on crackers, small children crying outside the window, I listen to the passing traffic, and listen to her small breaths, and wait for the greyness and burning to return.