cloistered_stars werewolf we are too dumb and blind to hold the whole lifetimes of the gods. our myths hold only what we cannot afford to forget. discriminant features, the boundries of our skin and our lives. what is it i recall of you, of that night? your body moving indecisively, hips were an unfaithful altar eyes, hiding their alertness. the space between your lips and nose, it fit my lips very well. the curves leading to your back, and to another person's scar on your skin that you wouldn't let me see. how warm your stomach was, the surprise discovery of a piercing. The history in the small and slowly pulled apart skin between your breasts. Your eyes looked different when you were talking to me comfortably on top, than earlier when you were mainly looking away, before the night was dark enough for us to see that it was our distance and not our closeness that was undignified. then your whole face looked different. maybe it was just that i only caught it directly then, and before that, it'd been too close to tell. your skin was full of memories and changes. slowly moving into the unforseen a bit hopefully. even blind hope is hope. and every scar and every stretching i wanted to run my finger along like a backwards fortune teller so i could see all of your private nights alone, your first discovery of love's escapism, your pains, and the promises you made to yourself. so i would understand why you felt some were broken in my arms, why some blossomed. i worship the idols i have constructed, i falter when i realize my life is nothing but waiting, naming clouds, away from you i live the death of gods, i am exact i am a clock, i am ticking, but kissing you i die their lives. i am open i am emptied, i am filled. words are excavated and i am given memories i did not know i was capable of. my eyes have become a little wider, but i remain a thimble before the sea. 021210 ... jane a sea is made up of many thimblefuls of water as a night sky is made up of many cloistered stars 021212 what's it to you? who go blather from