These Black Lips

I open up. I desire. I expire. This is what I do. This is what I have always done.

‘“I love you,” you said, and I felt it in my spine. It curled. “Do you love me too?” you said, but I didn’t answer. I gave you my eyes, my throat, my cheeks. I felt you in all of my muscles. I took you into my cartilage and neurons. I opened up my cells and locked you there. I gave you everything.

“Do you love me?” you asked again and again. Words, only words. 

Words have been taken from me too often and I do not give them lightly. I sealed my lips. I did not give you your words, although I gave you everything I had.

I open up for you. I desire all that you give me. I expire beneath you. We merge, we migrate, we transcend. And still you want these words from me.


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Nat Newman - portrait

Nat Newman

Nat Newman is an award-winning writer of short stories, content, podcasts, feature articles, drunk text messages and, soon, a novella.


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