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Naked and laughing

I put my bare feet on the dashboard and slouch down comfortably into the wide bucket seat of your ’65 Mustang. My skin, moist from sweat, sticks as i drag my wiry body into position.

My tattered canvas chucks, what little fabric is left of them now grey with senescence, rest on the floor in front of me. I gave them no reason to wish to abandon me.

I feel for your hand, limp and warm against the cool leather seat. Your fingertips recognize mine and you blanket my knuckles with your calloused palm.

The wind fingers my hair, tugging at it, knotting it into bows, clearing it from my face so that whispers promising raspberry kisses and galaxies of freckles swirl into my ears.

Rocking in sync with the screaming-yellow metal horse, I feel every rippling muscle and churning gear. The deep growling from the engine barely raises above a tangible purr, vibrating our parched bones into morse code love songs.

The radio scratches out our nostalgia for days filled with
Limitless skies.
Unfenced yards.
Eloquent dreams.
Back when we could scrape the moon with pale tendrils sprouting from the ends of our arms.

Fireflies flash advertisements within the flaxen fields:




Your fingers spread reluctantly as mine push upwards and our joints lock, reassuring me.

Tides tumble in on a summer breeze, skimming an ocean of gold. Swallows dart over the grasses, rippling the air with their wings like skipping stones at the lake.

I close my eyes and slip onto our splintered swing hung from the willow; snakelike fingers tickled the water’s skin and provided a sanctuary from truth. It was the only place in the world we could truly discover ourselves.

The curtain of branches parts as my pupils adjust to the onslaught of bright citrus rays squeezing between my eyelids. Bursts of orange and yellow sparkle through clouds of mating insects and pollinating weeds, everything feels suspended in the shivering humidity.

I set my free hand swimming, weaving it through the hazy summer evening, enslaving the hairs on my arm in the wild embrace of the exhilarated wind.

You unlock our conjoined fist and grasp my gangly arm to pull my shoulder into the moist depression under yours . I forget about the awkward sensation of sticky hair as I rest my own head, damp with sweat, in the gentle curve of your neck.

Your arm winds around my neck until your fingers can flick at the white glass starfish adorning my bare chest. I will never comprehend how you are able to drive so well even while distracted by the sensual connection between our conjoined bodies.

I imagine a world where you and I can be together forever; the world we conjured as teenagers.
do you remember?
I ask with an upward glance.
please say you remember…

You catch my watering eyes and tense into chuckles,
are you kidding me?
Laughter bubbles up from your defined torso,
baby…i’m still here, aren’t i?

I catch ahold of your giggly string and allow it to pull my embarassment out of my mouth stretched wide.
You are still here
We match our electric smiles.

Our exposed bodies smear into each other; they’ve been well-acquainted before. Streams of salt-water pour down our gaunt freckled cheekbones as we erupt into a fit of ecstasy, our thighs sultry with sweat and clinging to the leather.

We were there together.

Driving to nowhere.

Naked and laughing.

and in love

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  • Mark German
    Mark Germanalmost 7 years ago

    Lys – seriously – you have a great talent for writing. You really should pursue it further. I love the way you soak your writing in emotion and feeling – such rich depth.

  • thanks mark :D

    i just want you guys to feel what i feel, see what i see, taste what i taste!

    – Alyssa Medina

  • ytsumner
    ytsumneralmost 7 years ago

    Oh, darlin. That was just sublime.
    Your words are kicking serious ass these days you know.
    This is so lyrical and I was there the whole way.
    Oh romance…

  • LostBoy1
    LostBoy1almost 7 years ago

    amazing work…enjoyable, poetic and the rest.

  • greenbeards
    greenbeardsalmost 7 years ago

    this is certainly evocative

  • Lehane
    Lehanealmost 7 years ago

    I think Lost Boy is spot on…poetic. Not enough story for my tastes, but no doubting it is beautiful written.

  • Bryan Davidson
    Bryan Davidsonalmost 7 years ago

    That really really is good writing. Top notch. Lovely.

  • karldenton
    karldentonalmost 7 years ago

    Lys, remarkably written! Really well done, found myself getting irritated when the screen saver kicked in, like getting interrupted when reading a good book. Well done…

  • LindaR
    LindaRalmost 7 years ago

    Lys, seriously stunning satisfying writing…now when are you starting your book?? :)

  • ragman
    ragmanalmost 7 years ago

    your talent is only as good as your imagination …. and wow, what an imagination ~ great work

  • kaylarenee
    kaylareneealmost 7 years ago

    You really know somethings just wonderful when your the only writings I read on here! :) Great emotions, really puts you inside the story.. I agree with mark.. Persue something, your’re wonderful!

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