Friday, August 14, 2009

the stepladder

She steadied me on the stepladder. Her hands were a vice and my lower torso stayed fast in her grip. I was impressed at her shameless embrace. She never shied away, she never cowered. I convinced myself there was a hunger in the way she held me. I always fancied myself nimble and balanced. But not this time, this time I needed someone else.

I noticed her laughter was brighter, her voice melodic, her smile more genuine, as long as her hands were touching me. I purposely let the current wash through me into her fingers. She is enjoying this. And strangely enough, so am I.

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