Ubertine - Love: Actually (old text revisited plus brandnew NSFW tubgirl goodness) (865 hits)
Category: NoneRating: -2 on 2 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Marginwalker (View user info) at 2007-01-29 01:23:45 EST
She pauses, and looks up to where he is hunched over, the source of his ponder hidden, veiled in a six foot frame.
She wonders what puts the crease his forehead - what leaves him oblivious to the space between them.
There's snow on the ground, and the windows are coated with condensation. His eyes are crystalline this morning, always indicative of deep thought; a change in seasons.
The walls drip wet.
She looks down at her mindless scribble on the page:
"Omega";
And looks up once again.
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She has learned to approach him as foreign territory; tepid steps on land-mined ashes. This forgotten war zone, this mutable geography; these dirt paths are hers to discover.
She takes care to map out the paths of his expanse: the memories, history, regrets. The dead falls. The trip wire; expressions distinct to certain emotions.
The language of lovers -
That single lock of copper lost across a sun-kissed face, always brushed aside in morning a fuck.
She draws elaborate maps by which she will - regardless of the distance - find her way back home.
Save soft touches - a kiss:
Cemented in her instinct is survival; matches and compass. Kindling.
He feels her gaze. He looks up, smiles, and resumes discerning the words before him.
She sighs at her inability to decipher the vagueness of his face,
and begins to doubt the angle of her crumb-trail home.
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He shakes from the logistics of her shift.
He shakes.
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She pins it on proximity.
There were too many small things to focus on. So many tiny motions she had never seen consummated.
His grace, his sway - a way of moving air to compliment the simplest of gestures. A true veteran .
His eloquent capture of ten thousand tongues. His verbose demur of everything conventional held the eyes of those around him. It was his greatest source of confidence.
Perhaps his physique distracted her from obvious landmarks; worn paths and clusters of shrapnel. .
The domain was new, but not untrodden.
It was only the windstorms that covered traces of previous footfall.
Nothing here was meant to be permanent.
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With a precise dart of eyes, he can cover the slightest stumble. Quick to pick up the next beat, he's worried she knows it too well.
The eyes of a map-maker.
The ears fine-tuned to skipped tempo.
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After love making, there's always a moment she is again lost in his motions, unable to find her rhythm in his echo.
For a moment there's only cadence.
Rolling over, she lights a cigarette,
And fumbles in the dark for the knob of the stereo.
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User Reviews
Submitted by particle_man58 (user info) at 2007-01-29 04:16:00 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
-2 for trying to steal my thunder
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-01-29 01:42:34 EST (#)
Ranking: -2