The stickytrap

He leaves out little treats. Little heart-shaped lures with promises. She picks them up tentaively,one by one, follows the trail. Sex. Love. Quiet moments watching him sleep holding onto you. Stillness where you are allowed to be yourself in a world where everyone tries to pull you into theirs. She licks her lips. Delicious. Follows the path with relish. She is addicted, she cannot stop. He stops giving the little heart-shaped lures for awhile. She is confused, she follows him.

She is staring up, on his chest, watching his lips move. Queerly, upside down. It moves and it moves and it moves. She is silent, growing smaller and smaller. She is fascinated by the movement, by how your lips look right side up even upside down. Except he doesn't have a face and his teeth is all wrong.