All I Really Want

House of Heart

In this heat I wonder if I am coherent. Without  you I feel a visceral  loneliness.   When we are together  I make small talk about  the weather and how the dog still barks when the summer  heat forces me to fling open the shutters  filling the room with night blooming jasmine or how  I am still  waiting  for the oil to dry on the painting that  I promised you. I am acutely aware of the momentum of  words and the intense desire for the feel of your hand  on my inner thigh. My own hands are  worn raw in search of common ground.   How can you trust me with your past, the woman in Berlin, that year in Turkey?  I am so afraid of implicit truth still I take all you give as though each confidence is not an invasion.
To be honest all I really want is to…

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