3. when we can - feel

Dear T,

I absorb myself in pure sensation these days.

On a makeshift bed in my living room on a heat-wave’s night, I play with an ice cube, circling it on and around my nipples. My breasts sweaty, in a pulled down nightshirt, loose and thin and white, night air through the window and everything blue and grey from the lights outside.

I glide the melting ice down my stomach, wincing, then down by my heating cunt, sliding the diminished slip of chill inside, the drips soaking my folds, the spikes of frosty pleasure-torture through me.

I cram my fingers inside once it's gone, as many as I can, as deep as I can, just to feel how far I can go…