WB

a oddly warm caress, the first exuberant peck, his sparkling eyes above and my body a question mark, turning

the same old WB, choosing to remain silent and smile instead of speaking, instead of explaining, instead of reacting

I think you have some explaining to do

do you have feelings for me?

a pact in the middle of the night, a hesitance punctuated with a kiss

smothered laughter, giggles, silent stroking, silent breathing

a clean morning, white sheets and a window, a cloudy light with no shadows: we are laughing, tapping our feet to the music, shrieking in tickled giggles and kicking, arms wrapped around my waist

a tired walk up a sand dune to a beautiful sunset, more expansive than any I’d ever seen before, a comfortable silence, each in our own spheres, slightly apart

a dying fire, his soft blowing, steady and consistent, cooing the fire to life, building the wood as if crafting a house, a steady rubbing of the left leg, a wordless warming of my hands in his

a three-way conversation dwindling to a two-way touching, widened eyes and covered laughing mouths in the night, quiet breathes in ears; a shocked awe of hearing the ferocity of nature in the night, a shock of his words, growled, unhinged, words not of thought but of an unmediated gutteral reaction

come for me, —–

a quiet huddling into each other, one exhale another’s inhale, hot, skin moist with condensation, fingers running through dirty hair

condensation lining the tent in the morning, small dewdrops shining in the clean light; three hours: religion, friends, history, thoughts; I take in his face with my eyes as I never have been allowed to before, explore the valleys of his bone structure with my fingers and feel the stubborn furls of his beard

we are again watching the sunset; it is the last time; we stand shoulder to shoulder in platonic comfort; he moves behind me and surrounds me; we are fluid; I wonder how we look; an asian female and a tall, bearded, blue-eyed male, so American

we are again intertwined; it is the last night; he cums in my face on accident and I am angry, then laughing as his lies back in his silent, smiling, unembarrassed way; he does not apologize and never does, instead wrapping me in his arms upon my return

it is the last morning: I am stroking and kissing softly his face and he mine; we are quietly talking about what I do not remember but it is a conversation of substance

let’s look at each other for a minute

he suggests in his unselfexplanatory way and I acquiesce in the blindly accepting way I have developed solely in reactionto him and so we look, his eyes sparkling and I’m sure mine sparkling right back, at each other

isn’t it odd how a gaze can mean nothing with a stranger, is so momentary

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