I was utterly alone in a restaurant with strangers
my thoughts weren’t on curry
or the underwear of the stranger
in front of me.
My thoughts were on your lipstick
on my stein.
Of how tightly wound your body becomes
lying next to mine.
I dazed into my water
remembering the sound of your gulping
in the night,
of your twitching sleep frights.
I couldn’t watch the TV
playing tragedy on the news
I might glimpse a memory of your lips.
How’d I fall into the creases
lose my footing,
but then there are your arms.
The shadows your muscles cast on your skin.
The curve those same muscles make
wrapped around me.
Aigner Loren Wilson is a queer Black SFWA, HWA, and Codex writer. Her work has appeared in Arsenika, Terraform, Rue Morgue, and more. She was listed on the honors list for the Otherwise Fellowship award for 2019. She also writes or edits for Strange Horizons, Nightlight Horror Podcast, Oly Arts, Discover Pods, and more.