Friendship wears a wolfish grin, exclaiming loudly that you're worthy, pretty, tasty morsel of feels-like-family. Friendship offers you a close embrace and draws you all the way inside itself, stroking, brushing, pulling, prodding, smelling your scent of the sea, mouth running wet with comfort. "You have a space here, little nest, good place to rest." Friendship is stronger than it looks, and it gives and takes of secrets shared like currency, expected to perish soon anyway - butterflies and pixiegold, shimmering, almost-painful. Don't you give your gold away, little girl. Shouldn't you be careful?
But friendship is domestic. It licks itself clean at least once a day. So you scratch it behind its ears while it talks for hours on end about its exploits, all its affairs of the heart and hard-ons, its thoughts and dreams. Warm and furry and full of love, friendship feels, lying at your feet, snoring by its own fire.
And it is only later friendship eats you, seasoned with all types of salt (sweat, sperm and tears), that you feel silly because you thought yourself anything other than flesh.
But friendship is domestic. It licks itself clean at least once a day. So you scratch it behind its ears while it talks for hours on end about its exploits, all its affairs of the heart and hard-ons, its thoughts and dreams. Warm and furry and full of love, friendship feels, lying at your feet, snoring by its own fire.
And it is only later friendship eats you, seasoned with all types of salt (sweat, sperm and tears), that you feel silly because you thought yourself anything other than flesh.