i have no need for a man inside the leather jacket the scent suffices, the warmth of skin on skin, creaking folds of flesh a long-dead thing comforting this animal that never had a name never slept beside its mother holding me so tight i smell like love
remember the herbs my love the first film we watched on a hot laptop balanced atop a tangle of pale legs: badlands. my heart ached for that doomed desert love, carving honeymoons from dust: sand dunes / black holes, all must collapse. how lucky i thought us, existing in pockets of space-time more easily overlooked. unbothered by the world. squeezed against the wall in your narrow bed. i’d kiss the plaster goodnight, grateful for the slowness of your breath to pacify my being condensed presence. so simple gravity got us in the end, too but what i want to remember is weightlessness: my knees against yours your arms on my waist how you held my heaviness, and i held yours, diminished.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Kaisa Saarinen grew up in the Finnish countryside and escaped as quickly as possible. She studied environmental politics and now works as a research analyst in London. Her writing is published or forthcoming in Anti-Heroin Chic, The Bitter Fruit Review, The Hungry Ghost, and elsewhere.