Standing there (a poem of sorts) (Patreon)

Standing there naked and cold. 

Standing there, naked, cold. 

Body given to the emptiness surrounding you. Only two feet to resist the unyielding stone. 

A reminder that you still are. 

For if you were not, 

the ground would swallow the nothing left of… you.

And then you… 

would fall. 

Fall deep and all would burn. 

Burn away everything.

Except…

cold.

.

.

And then a hiss.

Startling for its closeness.

It is… familiar.

The cold starts to flow and shift in the air.

You take a breath.

You?

The hiss changes, played as a harp.

Little droplets pop up on your legs.

The sound changes to warm.

Your arms open.

You feel.

You feel a hand.

A guiding hand for the heat surrounding your cold.

It rises. It rises up your body.

In the same moment you become one, head to toe with the warmth. A sound of struggle freezes you.

You brake, bend your knees and kneel before the softness in front of… you.

She.

She feels soft. 

How silly you remember. 

You looked at her this steamy evening.

Her rotund belly carefully turned towards you with a comparably round heap.

And together you ate. With you but for you, even more. The wide smile on her sunny face as her leftovers fell on your plate. She always had big eyes. 

You can feel her look, her hands, her body. Her feelings all inside you, packed tight. She gave you so much. All that had made her so big and beautiful, now inside you. She wants it. Your happiness will grow out. Her love will keep filling you until your body follows her. Mind and body will soften and melt, as your bellies will meet again and again. And again. Gain more of her love. Till you grow. Soft, together, as one. On fire.