An overfilled water jug: I keep spilling out words, feelings
They start to lose their meaning.
Once or twice, at night, when my devices are off and my thoughts are on
I have thought about communicating with you in a language
You will never have to study.
I will run my fingertips lightly across your spine, with the gentlest touch
As if I am carefully planting flowers
I want you to remember I have been here. I will kiss everywhere I can reach.
Your elbows, the backs of your knees.
Each one says you’re beautiful, you are so beautiful, until you are littered with the truth.
I’ll ask you to keep kissing me during, and I imagine your warm breath on my face
I smile as I consider that you might keep trying to focus and keep missing my mouth.
When you look in my eyes and give me a sly smile
I will have to stop myself
From sprinting to the finish line.
My hands will have so many places to travel, to explore
Clenching fistfuls of bedsheets, as your stubble grazes my thighs.
My fingers will run through your hair
My thumb will be tracing your jaw
They will end up firmly on your waist, pulling you to me.
It is tender, saccharine, plays not unlike a scene in a film
Where the camera pans over to the window.
Suddenly: you gently bite me, and the tender becomes raw
Teeth on skin, a rush to ending.
I glitter like gold.
Camille Elizabeth Lewis is a fledgling writer and avid reader who lives and learns with borderline personality disorder. She can be found indulging heavily in the life and works of Plath, and crossing off days on a calendar until the next instalment of the ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ series is released. Camille resides in South West England.