The Perils of Gossip

As she spoke, she could feel each word forming a wrinkle on her soul. She clutched at her sunglasses, as if the sun would pierce her skin, that little soft spot near her heart that tingled when she sounded out his name. Her laughter seemed false; the chocolate lost its magic, and she shrank into fear like a shadow. "I wish I could hold you", she said, but the breasts were far, the thighs on another shore. The sand was soft; grains seethed in an out of the water, like the blood that was pumped through four chambers, whose purposes she could not fathom, anymore than she could understand the distance between them: An ocean no mariner dared sail, and on the other side, a continent that would remain alone, unconquered and untamed. A field of weeds surrounded by purple flowers. Grains that seethe like your thighs. I bite my lips, and try not to whisper your name when I close my eyes.