On the theme of Your Very Flesh
All The Reasons I Love You, Even Though Life Is Fleeting And You’ll Just Die And Rot Anyway
I closed his nostrils between my fingers and pulled his jaw down and open. The hole in his face invited me to jump on the muscle that pulsed and twitched in there, squirming against my touch. I took the tongue out and petted it as it writhed in my palm.
“It’s not a sex thing,” I said, looming over him, fingering an eyeball; the nub between his legs agreed, “I just want more from you than you’re giving me.”
“My turn,” he said when I put the tongue back.
I laid down on my back and he stuffed my mouth with the gray sheet, balled from washing, torn from fucking.
We were fair. He had everything out in the open. I hadn’t given him enough, but then, even looking, he couldn’t find much more to take.
Author Biography
Tatiana Ryckman was born in Cleveland, Ohio. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts and writes from Austin, Texas.