wolfofdesire

Your chest's tide pulls me, a gravity spell that whispers of stars, and moonlit secrets.

we talk in rivers. I have noticed them flow in the midst of our conversations – mine the thames, serpentine slipping as a whisper through the low meadows, quiet and hissing. yours the five rivers of the punjab, vying like brothers in a tumult of froth and noise, wrestling their way through mangrove roots and mazes. the rivers raised us, taught us their ways. somewhere two oceans meet in a place where there is no wind, the doldrums silent and still as two currents cancel out in a moment of collision. as the thames flows into the punjab and halts, so too do we stand together, silent, over-brimming with restrained tidal