Its inside her :: SOTD


Keep Art Alive :: “Witch” :: Art by BeatrizMartinVidal

You’re tellin’ me it’s in the trees,
in the trees.
It’s not,
it’s inside me now

The trees began to separate as we wandered into the circle of space carved out for campsites and campground fires. The ground beneath our feet was soft to the touch, well-worn from shoe tread and car tires, civilation leaving its mark in the midst of this forest. We were there to try our hand out being “outdoor types”, and to pull ourselves out of the honeymoon high we had been hiding away in since our traded “I do’s”. These were happier times than we would ever know after, back when the troubles were just whispers and far off shadows, easily ignored when we were so flush with sex and late night conversations and love.

The dirt and the grime, the cold night air and the complications of erecting a tent and starting an actual fire were not what we had hoped for. We curled up together, freezing, in that half-fallen over borrowed tent and talked about how much we missed our too-small apartment, our pawn shop television, and our cat. We laughed as our teeth chattered, moving in closer, conspiring to sneak out right at the first sight of the sun, before our friends had even thought to begin waking, and head on back home.

We would never be the outdoor type. No, we preferred the race back down the mountains, past the secrets in the trees, and back home where we would strip off our clothes, and hop into a hot shower, together, losing ourselves in desire (again).

It was cold as death up there in the trees. All we wanted was to be back home, feeling alive.

Grey Cell Green :: Ned’s Atomic Dustbin

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