She’s the kind of girl
who pulls hard
but not so hard that he’ll let go.
arm
“Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness,“ Allen Ginsberg, in Michael Schumacher’s On Being a Writer.
TISSUE Magazine N°2.
“O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.”
– W. H. Auden, “As I Walked Out One Evening”.
This is actually some of my favorite stuff right here.
I’m small in stature and I like having someone’s arm across me like that, emphasizing how holdable and moveable I can be. I feel held, possessed. I like the strength behind being pulled into someone that way, even if it is gently.
That spot on my neck is my sweet spot, especially from the back. I melt. I absolutely melt. I give over to it so quickly that I barely even put up any attempt at a fight or a last effort to maintain some sort of dignity or composure. I literally can’t help it sometimes.
And together? Well, I guess you can imagine.
I love being held in such a way that I’m practically made to feel small.