Azure

He was here, and I was here.

He was in my bed almost as soon as he walked into my room, his black body like calligraphy on my big fluffy white comforter, and I didn’t have to think about it. My underwear was the lacey kind that was dark enough you couldn’t really see through it but it gave off an “I don’t care” attitude. I knew he liked that kind of thing. I like that kind of thing, too.

He was here, and I kissed him. He didn’t have to ask too many times.

I’ve known for a couple months about his eyes. His eyes, when I see him at school, take their time taking me in, running around my hips, my thighs, my neck, like a wrap-around porch. His arms framed my body like those beautiful porches, like a porch Scarlett O’Hara would have.

So I kissed him.

He palmed my head like a football. He ran his hands all over my hair, which was soft and red, and I felt his rough head, like a fern leaf, and it was unfamiliar. His hand was on my cheek, then it traced the line that keeps my body in order: my spine and where my legs start, then my legs, then he started to kiss my neck, and I ran my fingers around him like the vines of ivy that ran up my house when I was a little girl, and his hands were on both of my hips, and he was kissing my chest, everywhere, but he didn’t seem hungry, which I liked, which we both like.

And soon my hands, white, almost clear in the moonlight, were up and down his black abdomen like that ivy, slowly, peacefully scraping my fingernails over him like I knew everything about him already, which he liked, and I liked.

And soon I kissed his neck too, and while my nails made designs all over his arms, his legs, the blue walls around us and the ivy and the white porches stayed quiet and held us there in our places.

And he was never so old, or so young, or so happy, or so sad to me in that moment, when I looked into his black velvet eyes. I told him to hold me, and he did.

And he kissed my forehead and while we both sat up cross-legged on my bed he kissed my ear, my shoulders, my hair, with my legs wrapped around him, my arms like a medal around his neck, he scratched my back and held my body close to his.

He was here, but that’s no accomplishment.

He was here, he’s gone now, and I’m alone here in my blue heaven, and I checked my phone, and it’s three in the morning. But I’m here, and I don’t know if he’ll be here again. I think he likes that kind of thing. I don’t think I do.