time and space poetry beneath covers we kiss and touch and speak memories and upon reentering the world remember that time—unlike our hearts— does not stop on each occasion that my hand slides past your hips. Share this: Click to share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Click to share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Like Loading...
by slides past your hips do you mean you begin to touch her shoes?
no…her calves.
sometimes i get confused