After the Heat

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evening in french I miss something about the heatwave. Not the heat itself; the way it burrowed into my core, made my blood simmer and my skin trickle. It’s the light – the dart of it from window to front room. The renewing gold.

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hot anal gaping holes The flies know it’s gone. A few of them have blundered in since, the buzz of their tone a little lower. All that attitude withered by cool grey clouds. The rain is shocking, switching on and off at will. Stale sunlight bursts through sporadically; twinned with the wet, it is thick and contained, impossible to read.

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blow job cum shots My summer clothes are piled in my bedroom: shorts upon skirts upon dresses. I was conserving energy by slipping out of one outfit, leaving it down, then pulling on another. Now, I’m rummaging for long tops, jeans and cardigans.

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girl slit throat You were gone before the sun arrived, all your essentials in one neat case. You never bothered to iron anything, just rolled it up, as if going for a swim. Perhaps you are swimming today, bobbing on green waves – that beach you go to, what is it called? The one where the rocks are like old men and the sand reminds me of Greece.

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