SAVE ME // POETRY & PROSE

xix. he tastes like sugar

XIX. HE TASTES LIKE SUGAR

a crooked smile as sweat drips down his face. his hair looks like cotton and feels like a cloud – the kind of cloud that is so appealing to one's slender fingers – and as he turns around to meet your kaleidoscope eyes – so full of life in this precise moment, with stars dancing beneath your eyelids and lashes that curl up to meet the sky – when you breathe out his name, something that felt as natural and instinctive as breathing in air, his soft bundle of hair glues itself to his forehead, captured by the sweat drops that resembled tears.
he stumbles towards you, limbs exhausted as he dives into the night – the moon has been shining in the dark for many hours now, and the streets are empty –, his eyes shimmering with a special kind of glow as he slurs his words. you cannot comprehend him but you smile nonetheless, as you grab his large hands and intertwine your fingers with his shaky, slim and pale ones. you try to take him home but he wants to try something else. tired of swimming in the dark, he'd rather swim in you, so he dives right into your mind, drunken lips dancing with your sober ones, placing drunken kisses on your chapped yet soft lips that are now curved upwards into a smile. you expect him to jump off you immediately, running away to only come greet you in the morning with the largest grin, completely unaware of this moment. yet you stay put and try to carve this feeling, this burning sensation – you feel like he just set you on fire and is now dancing in the flames alongside you – so deep into your mind that you'll never, not even for once, forget how it felt to have his fingers dug themselves onto your skin and how the stars sang for you.
but he stays, lips ghosting over yours as he grins, and you start to wonder if he's gone mad. then he laughs, the sound slightly reminding the one a small child would make, and pulls you close to him, burying his face on the crook of your neck and between the strands of your cascading hair. you don't know how to react, so you just wrap your arms around him tightly.

and you don't want this night to end, not now, not ever.
you never want to let go of the golden boy you hold in your arms, shielding him from the harsh ways of the world and still losing your mind over the sweet taste of his drunk state.

-- how i wish this night would have ended, instead of me shivering alone in a kingsize bed.