I imagine the place where I had met that face, fail. It looks familiar. Nimble fingers quietly polish my skin to their desired shine, shape my flesh into exact measurements of their need. It seems I had been touched by them in yet another sleep, variously, felt them deep under my skin, where an immovable desire is. The face draws closer, lips greet lips, shaking two willing bodies, teeth biting every wronged need.
Light is on the windows.
My warm fingers feel the hard lumps on my lips. And there is that numb weight of a body that knew only too well what it wanted from me.