Breaking The Ice Between Us
Teeth, breath, heat, anger, years of not saying it crashing like two storms colliding.
She tastes like fire and heartbreak.
I’m kissing like drowning.
Her hand slides into my hair.
My palm finds her spine.
She gasps. I bite her lower lip. She moans into me like she hates herself for it.
We crash backwards into the door, breathless, wild.
Every time she pulls away, we snap back together like gravity forgot how to function without us touching.
When we break for air, foreheads pressed, her voice shakes:
“This changes nothing.”
I brush my thumb along her jaw, breathing her in like oxygen.