Why Three is not a Crowd


Because, your nails have left delicious marks on my thighs and your fingertips left bruise marks upon the snow white skin of my throat, just over my pulse.

Because, your teeth have left a bloody cut upon my lips, violent and crimson against a soft rose mouth, which smiles constantly around you, though with a tender lump since your teeth are sharp.

Because, your skin is soft and smells like me, you and him, our scents intertwine like our fingers, your legs with hers and mine, our breath. You both bite hard and don’t mind that I do too. I can drag my nails down your skin, press my palm into your throat.

Because, your lips were dry and cheekbones sharp when I ran my fingers over your face, memorising you by touch, how your spine was curved and bony, how your long hair smelt like smoke, how the cold of your piercing clicked against my nails.

Because, you whimper and gasp in a way that is divine, we share breath, lips close. You give off heat and my gasps ribbon up into the air but you swallow my sound, you don’t mind that I shiver and my back arches.

Because, after, we stand half naked smoking out of a window, shaking in cold air but nestled into each other’s warmth, we sleep like a pack in a huddle under blankets that smell of us and when we walk past each other we press a hand to one another’s shoulders or hair or face or we rub our heads or drop a kiss, feather light and gentle.

Because, you’re my friends and I love you (but not like that), Three can be a crowd for some, but if a lesbian and her straight best friends can do it,there’s not a lot we can’t achieve really.


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