We fuck so hard the fittings crack and the knick knacks clatter from the mantle. Afterwards, we lay in sticky splendour and quiver in each other’s arms. I love love, you say. I too, my love, adore ardour. We lock fingers and describe each other in fine detail. You, I say, are the corona that makes sunlight special. And you, dear one, are the defiant moon in daylight. The tides shift when we kiss, something tectonic quakes, and the world is rearranged. The stars align and this time we make love. Did you feel that, we say. My love.
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.