Strange
Strangeness on strangeness;
Why should his life make sense now
Amidst such chaos?
And if he’s honest
(Which is how he prides himself)
It’s not unwelcome
Not entirely.
There’s a comfort in his warmth,
In the way his hands
Gently graze his knee,
Settle on his back to sooth,
Brush back errant hair.
And there’s a comfort
Knowing nothing could shake him
Like their lips meeting.
Life is so damn strange.
(But thrilling in it’s strangeness).
He closes his eyes.
Lips soft against his,
The scent of wood smoke and pine
And warmth inside him.
Life’s so goddamned strange.
Or, his life. Their lives. (Their life?)
He can live with that.
Day Fifteen Prompt: Off-prompt ’cause I’ve got a new OTP and I’m bad at traditional fanfic but great at channeling schmoop into gen poetry that makes people feel like they are definitely not quite in on the joke. Literally all I’m gonna say about that for now.
Also:
