almost atlantis

Frail, your wrists; not quite delicate, I can count the bones encircled by my fingers.

I favored you, like I favored so many other delightfully deceitful things.

You were tangible, tangled, taught and taunt. I slept with you not as lovers but as a cohabitant of a singular thought, an indistinct promise exchanged in the sweet fumbling and then insistent and purposeful positioning that almost woke us, almost broke the unspoken and entirely imaginary line that kept us on just this side of decency.

“Reside,” I said, “And I will reside with you.”

I left those words, just long enough to make my words true and honest, before discarding them, “Reside,” I amended, “And I will cut away the rest of the world, snipping continents with a steady hand until all that is left is the island of you.”

4 thoughts on “almost atlantis”

  1. That’s very kind of you to say.

    I prefer things that are…almost perfect.

    (perhaps, because it is the cracks in perfection that let me come in)

  2. “This is the very perfection of a man, to find out his own imperfections.”

    Moments of perfection are most beautiful because they are not truly perfect but perceived as so — perfection is the cracked mask under which beauty resides.

    I look forward to more, D’jaevle.

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