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Michael Utahs’s Followers (3)
Michael Utahs
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Verbose
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Verbose
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
“How could it be held against me to have not asked the question then, as terrified as I was, because it was terrifying to lose hold of my lifeline in my hour of greed, if to want more of this, of him, meant to lose everything?”
― Verbose
― Verbose
“My own body in flames, sore on account of remaining untouched. My skin ached in its loneliness. I longed to feel his hair against my chest every day; his palms on my ribs, to feel the bottom of his feet go from cold to warm as they borrow from my heat. To tell stories about our young, hungry years. To rub off on one another so much we become indistinguishable by old age. To have the same qualities, the same opinions, to share the same clothes and toiletries and jewelry and lingerie, the same bowel timetable, the same bath water. To disavow ourselves from the rest of society, to be just us in this way, forever. And to show no desire to die; our lust for life unextinguished.”
― Verbose
― Verbose
“We slipped into each other's underwear before winding down. Bodies sprawled on the deck, sun-showering in our little sun puddle. The light glistening on his wet belly. I noticed his light tan. His eyes were shut, which is why I allowed mine to travel.
My own body in flames, sore on account of remaining untouched. My skin ached in its loneliness. I longed to feel his hair against my chest every day; his palms on my ribs, to feel the bottom of his feet go from cold to warm as they borrow from my heat. To tell stories about our young, hungry years. To rub off on one another so much we become indistinguishable by old age. To have the same qualities, the same opinions, to share the same clothes and toiletries and jewelry and lingerie, the same bowel timetable, the same bath water. To disavow ourselves from the rest of society, to be just us in this way, forever. And to show no desire to die; our lust for life unextinguished.”
― Verbose
My own body in flames, sore on account of remaining untouched. My skin ached in its loneliness. I longed to feel his hair against my chest every day; his palms on my ribs, to feel the bottom of his feet go from cold to warm as they borrow from my heat. To tell stories about our young, hungry years. To rub off on one another so much we become indistinguishable by old age. To have the same qualities, the same opinions, to share the same clothes and toiletries and jewelry and lingerie, the same bowel timetable, the same bath water. To disavow ourselves from the rest of society, to be just us in this way, forever. And to show no desire to die; our lust for life unextinguished.”
― Verbose
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