A Few Short Words

Dense Not Thick




Buttery and the shade of melted umber, she shines like burnished stone. I could look for hours and not see a sliver, barely a fractional vista caught in the horizon’s shimmer. Sharp in the way of absent notes in a felonious composition, her cadences carry a piano’s punctuation. I could listen for hours and not catch a word, simply drift upon a lilting cloud of consciousness. Marshmallows soaked in cocoa, her eyes are diaphanous chocolate portals flecked with gold. I could drown in their depths and be forever quenched. Boundless and scaled to suit, her love is tailor made.


I ask Sasha what it feels like to be in love and she laughs the way a hummingbird eats. She tells me love is like skydiving with a marshmallow parachute and laughs again, still hungry. Something in my silence must sound a little off because she turns to me with an inquisitor’s concern, dragging her eyes across my face as if it were a whetstone, her features sharpening with each stroke. When she asks me which end I want to start with, I tell her the middle. She sighs and says, darlin’, that’s just the beginning of the end.

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