Ember (1) We Sleep at Sunset

His hand shifts under my sweater cuff, sliding up to my forearm. ''Tell me you don't feel it.'' I brush my fingers over his collarbones, just above the worn edge of his shirt. Beneath it, I feel the faint shift of muscle, the stutter in his breathing. He kisses me hot and hard. Like a collapse, His hands slide under...

Ember (2) We Dream at Midnight

I find her on the roof again. She's perched on the edge, legs dangling above the city. Her hair's tied up, loose strands curling against the nape of her neck. I can see the slope of her spine through that thin shirt. She's made of lines instead of bones, angles I ache to smooth with a hand. I'd use my lips if she aske...