What does it taste like? (Short Story)
Meeting you was perplexing. It’s like I was in the middle of cooking something easy, but suddenly someone brought a full plate of rice. Mountainous. I was contending between receiving it or not because I can cook mine myself.
The moon is good. He’s also looking good. It makes me want to snuggle for good.
Holding your hand was terrifying. Sometimes I felt the excitement, but other times it felt like a threat. Whenever your skin touched mine, my walls crumbled down. The fortress was not quite an escort. Because every time I tried to keep it standing, I was cursed for not opening up the front gate. I ran and hid. But it was indeed a virtuous adventure. Those are worth the time spent.
Being yours was a slumber. When you asked me about that, I was in the middle of a reticent coast. Sitting there a month, two, three, and years. Waiting for the right moment to move while letting the small waves sweep my feet. And suddenly, someone brought a whole bag of water and flushed them all over my face. I was awakened.
If it’s with you, I might want to live a little longer than others. I hope you too.
Kissing you was shattering. Having an all-time cold night wind, I must seek coverage. The blanket wasn’t anywhere to be found, but someone just abruptly put theirs on my shoulders all over my back. It was scorching and welcoming. The universe just happened to be a thermal, muffled rainfall that ran through my veins. It was inveterating.
Living with you was heinous. As I was an inflexible warrior, I was always going hard on myself. Opened at this, journaled at that. Governed at this, sounded at that. But one day, it felt like a breeze under the wet tree. I could let myself be defenseless because I knew that someone would preserve me.
It takes all my fortitude and conviction to say them. And it is not just an expression. It is a manifestation.
“I yearn for you, dear steel of the night.”
-Northeast, 2 July 2023.
