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WILLOW

A vacuu inover me

An entire lifeti here in this wickedly beautiful room, surrounded by people who are confident in their own proclivities and lust It sets an obscene backdrop for the rush of primal, animal desire that shakes me Desire for the man that I called ‘Dad’ for a few years of ave him freely, even after he entered my life for such a short time

“Willow” He says h he doubts I’m real

“Pike” His naer who he once was tohere

For a reen pools of his familiar eyes The lines around his mouth a set a bit deeper now His face is pureHis full lips look warher and at a different angle than the right The silver scar on his cheek still visible fro I left on the kitchen floor He fell into the corner of the cabinet, slicing open his skin and gaining him six stitches

He never made me feel bad about that He just said he would have a permanent reminder of me every time he looked in the mirror

One, two, three, four, fivethe counting he taught o starts immediately, instinctively

The dark arch of his eyebrows, set on a brow that juts out, square and proud and unashaht the thundering stor into a tempest down deep in my center

Ice Think of ice Glaciers Siberia Anything that’s colder than your lust right now

“Soranite

A flicker of gold dances in the green of his eyes before a sadness swoops down over his face I feel the change in hiathers in

“You look more beautiful than ever, Caramia”

“Don’t call me that” I bite back

I grip the sides oftoo close for ht But, just like he always did, he reads me before I even read myself