Cobalt blue is my favorite color.
It’s the color of the sky, just before it gets dark. Have you seen it?
It’s just after the sun goes down and twilight comes in and it is beautiful.
I once read a poem by Pablo Neruda in which he writes about love and that reminds me of the the kind of color of the sky I mean.
He writes:
‘I love you as certain things are loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul’.
I find that so beautiful, like I’m in a twilight zone. As if I’m really there. Peaceful and quiet.
Close enough to see you, but do I find you too? And even more, can I feel you?
I love this and I think about this.
I love twilight, it looks dark, but there is still so much color still to see.
I get exhilarated and let myself dream away. Sometimes literally.
Twilight looks like a magical sort of ‘something’. Elusive. Just like you are. Just like ‘us’.
But twilight is also saying out loud that it’s where I wish to meet you.
Want to meet with you. Somewhere outside. When it’s almost dark. And nobody cares or has a single clue about it. That we are there.
When will I see you again?
Where will I see you?
Do you love being in the outside?
Do you dare? To be there?
Will you kiss me?
Do you feel me, baby?
Do we find that one spot?
Do you know what I mean by that?
Do you see it for you?
Somewhere there.
In a place where no one sees us. And no one finds us.
And where we can kiss with our tongues. Blow our minds. Moan. Ride against each other.
Where I can see your erection right through your pants, but also feel it too.
Where I can get into your pants and feel your underwear, touch your cock and gently, but horny squeeze your head. Where I jerk you off you in an intensively silent way.
Where we continue to kiss and I become so fucking wet and even wetter (and to be honest I already was, just the thought of seeing you, makes me go wild).
A place where I can put my pants down. I don’t wear any underwear. Because I’m more or less prepared for this (I write more or less, because if I really was really prepared, I would have worn a tight little skirt).
But. Above all. Now. Back to that place. In the half dark. Twilight, so to speak.
Where I stand before you and bend.
And where you do me with your fingers.
Then your cock takes over.
The show.
Where you fuck me standing, not even against a wall. I’m stand still, steady and willing, could it be any more perfect, right?
My legs stretched. My palms on the ground.
Exactly somewhere there, in twilight, between the shadow and the soul, we make no secret of it.
Even though someone writes it so magisterially beautiful. We just do(n’t) it.


All artwork by Puck Rietveld

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