This is like nothing I have ever experienced before. It is a hunger, a tearing, a ripping, a healing. It is rough and loving. It is gentle, it is harsh. It is a dance, it is an attack. It is ravenous and intense and ferocious and almost unbearably tender. When it’s over, we collapse on the bed, staggered, shattered, like we’ll never be exactly the same, and maybe we won’t. Eventually she moves so as to lay her head on my chest, her hand on my stomach. We don’t speak. We stare at the ceiling until our eyes close. My last thought before I pass out is a primitive one: Don’t leave me. Don’t leave
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