‘Sage! What’s so funny? What did I say?’ She looks down at her naked body and searches for a sign of humor.

            ‘No, baby, I just can’t imagine the joy that you must contain to release it through your little lips the way you do.’ She laughs; then turns very serious. I’m still laughing, its way out of my control now. She grips both my biceps and rips me from her, slams me on the empty sheets beside us. She rolls me away and starts kissing my spine. It tickles. I’m wild with spirit.

            ‘Stop laughing!’ She demands. I don’t. I don’t care. I think I’m doing it on purpose. She presses herself against me, wraps one arm under my neck and over my lips. I try to bite. She slaps my right thigh as hard as she can. I start weeping. She doesn’t look away. She’s not afraid of pain. This is how she knows the magnitude of joy that I see in her smile. I know this. So my tears feel graceful in execution, and it excites me to know her fingers will catch them. My wild tongue tries everything to break free; sucking, flicking, licking, ticking; choking. But mostly, I’m grateful to be silenced. I am more of a brat the more I am comforted. I am the most wild when her skin encloses me; through her I feel that I am every living thing. She pushes strong sweaty fingers through my thighs and reaches for my cunt. ‘Is this all for me?’ She whispers. I scream. No one in my camp hears a thing. I bite her ring finger and make her bleed in attempt to reply. I want to climb every red mountain in sight, beyond my reach, and lose my lungs singing ‘Baby! It has always been you! It was always for you that I ran. I have always been yours.’