Three Tiny Tales

Sometimes I start a piece and for whatever reason, I don’t like the flow, the direction or worse, I get stuck with nowhere to go. That was the case with these three tiny tidbits. Incomplete, but that is what I do best. I am just glad I saved them as there are some nifty sentences wandering about here. 

1. Your words reflect the anxiety of slithering nightmare. When I think of you, that stillness surrounding us while we wander unpleasant paths, what comes clean? We could wash away our filth, our self imposed sinful existence, but that would not be any more honest and open than the stories we tell to the dark. It listens without judgment, without expectation. But we know better than to trust its chimerical ways.

2. Shocked at how hollow I feel when you are gone. I have never needed anyone, ever. Even the times I thought I was lonely, what I really was missing was perspective. It comes with time, it comes alone, like I want it.

3. She stands in front of me. “Tell me me your desires,” but I am not sure I have any.

Persistent buzzing of a crowded room around us, bodies slither past other bodies, I swim intoxicated past my freckled face and see from outside, looking at me looking at you, pondering an answer.

Was it how I found you, sitting on a high stool, right leg over left, a dangling ankle, that made my heart stumble?

“To kiss you, there,”I say, pointing at a spot of skin just above your clavicle, so near your neck, which is near your mouth.


About fenster

There are some who call me, Tim?

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