in the late/early dark, naked. hands trembling, mouths both hard and soft. bodies firm but yielding.

“…but it doesn’t seem okay to talk about other lovers here.”

“why wouldn’t it be? how else could we have gotten here, than by the richness of our histories?”

a  smile lights in the dark.


the best of friends, sometimes lovers, newly travelling companions:

“oh, making your tired noises, better camp soon.”

“i have tired noises?? […] guess you’d know.”

the crankiness dissolves like sugar in tea.


a note to myself: when the going gets shitty, put it in perspective by listening to the snippets that are stored in your brain.


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