Lizbeth's Lesbian Collection

Me, I’m very inside myself, given to fits of melancholy.

she brings me off, raises me up, tears me in two.

Her cries are nearly inaudible, but to me they are like an ocean roaring with waves of fervent bliss that crash at my ears.
She claws my hair.
She tenses.

I think I’m going to swoon, until she laughs that lilting, approving laugh. She seems to know my trepidation and my joy, and tries to put me at ease with her hands.

But it’s not enough that it’s there, it’s everywhere that shivers.

“Cassidy,” she says, in a voice that floats to my ears like Mozart.

That place gives me away, it leads me running around after phantom lovers like a child with a first crush.