savor /ˈsāvər/
🫰🏻
like rays dawning over lids, closed red-ed gold flickering midnight a soft brightness beseeching nothing a glow, sultry and radiating nine inches from the head to her chest into fingers now past toes shoulders weighted like jaws too and a belly ballooning relaxedly, swelling and then, there’s your hum, frequentic lulls cycling, steady, low tracing waves through the waters of my body just like the richness of mousse, whipped fresh and toppling, with sliced, peeled clementine brightly bursting, like the tingling joy of meeting an up-curving c of lips our skin resting close and that scarf I didn’t need left hanging in the hallway after it clung so tightly to the neck all winter soaking up scents, still lingering now, that we've left
im (still) sick (or again) and indoors. in frosted weathers i look to the skies: the same craterous shapes forming far in her round mooning face, as speckled on my window pane. a re-collection that these two, too are linked. the little lives in the big, just as the small resides in all 🌫️ 🌑 or maybe im just sick and silly, waiting for spring cleaning 🙃 anyways, tell me, what is the sweetest taste, the deepest sound, the yummiest touch, the most snug smell for your animal body to be enveloped by?


Sorry you’re unwell. May you improve with the weather. After hearing Zeb describe a Berlin winter I wonder how anyone survives it!