A Love Letter To My One-Night Stand

God& Man

The Pause

The hustle and excitement of city-life can often be tumultuous. Most periods, even occasions as simple as present and fervour looks a lot like absurd tasks. Uncommon times of awareness and calms often slip away, veiled amidst the honking of cars and the scoot of parties on the streets.

So how do I exist? When we interrupt life.

I live their lives minuscule times .

The hitch in your breather when you shift beside me, the tone of your foreign scalp as I caress it with my paws, my teeth tearing through your bottom cheek, the window’s silhouette gradually running on your bedroom wall as “the worlds” lazily gets drenched in the sugar of the sunrise.

“Darling, I seem you, under my body.”

Your palms searching unfamiliar territory, the unfamiliar terrain of my hip bones, your chest heighten and descending as you initiate me to reverberate I have never heard before, the flapping in your eyelids when I caress your forehead, the silence shared between two strangers meeting at a strange arrange in a strange point in time.

Your hand clasps mine and we intertwine.

“Darling, you’re with me, always around me.< i >

Give me refuge, or be demonstrated by stomach .

Watch me come apart, watch me fall apart.”

The world is an eerie grey- and my paws fly through your fuzz, crawling up your limb like ants, and you don’t mind.

The world is black and white – your ear is against my breast listening to my over-caffeinated heartbeat.

There is a sort-of thrill from the friendlines of your pulse traveling down my shoulders, my back, the aqueduct of your nose rest at the felon of my cervix when you pull me into you and we fit, and so I mind. I spirit .

But I am thirsty for life. For intend. For more than existence.

So I drink in the moments. We are human, and we are alive .

Let us submerge in the in-betweens.

Read more: https :// thoughtcatalog.com/ sade-andria-zabala/ 2018/01/ a-love-letter-to-my-one-night-stand /~ ATAGEND