I Can't Help My Mind From Going There

 I.

Our recent conversations about dreams:  How one cannot control how the mind works, and, should we really spend much time and energy into trying to interpret them?

I suppose not.

Mine tend to be fairly blatant.

Not in their details, but in their desires.

Those dreams that can wake you soaking in both fear or desire.

Sometimes both.

II.

Heard your boyfriend was away this weekend: Wanna meet at my place?

It was raining tonight. Finally.

I declined the offer of the ride home so that I could walk. In the dark. As fast as I wanted. As slow as I wanted.

I wanted to feel my thighs touch each other. Rub up against each other. In the rain. While I walked fast. Slow. Became warm. But could still feel the sting of the cold night air.

We could be caught

My thighs pushing against each other while I'm thinking of you touching that secret inside corner of my inner thigh while rain poured down on my face, my lips, my clothes.

Cars went by, their headlights blaring.  An occasional horn to get my attention. I ignored all of them. I didn't want to be saved. I didn't want to be interrupted. I just wanted to walk. Quickly.  Hard steps on the pavement.

We're both convicted criminals of thought

I have to take a minute from you.

Not because I don't like you.

But because I do.

When I lay in bed I touch myself and I think of you

There is more to this.


And I intend on riding it out.



Be well; be loved,


k.


(Title and italicized words thank you to  this song, which I would like you to go listen to.  Right now.)
(image source:  via melisica dot com)