January 17, 2011
Your skin, like mine, like you, like I, is thin, and through it your veins protrude thick and blue through your forearms, pumping the blood of royalty throughout the body that now shares my sofa, my bed, my shower, and the bathroom towels. My fingertips rest gently, barely settling on the hair, and I swear I feel the surge just below the surface, the rush beneath the flesh. I imagine our blood swooshes at exactly the same pace, in the same pattern, through each of us, joining us even closer than we've already become. Have we really only just begun?