no pretty words when i sit back. they are best said quietly and directly into the cup of your ear. your chin is red from my two day stubble, i push up your shirt until it is gathered under your chin and your breasts are naked. my hands on your stomach are pale against your fading tan. you must have been dark in the summer, because it's nearly winter and you're still coffee coloured. we cannot steer a silence like we can a conversation, and our quiet looking in the middle of what was meant to be some simple lust and sofa fun is twisting us together.