Fragments, desire, and the quiet ache between lines.
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The Salt Eyes
From The Salt Eyes
I want so badly to feel that sensation again—the one that makes you never want to let go. Thighs locked around hips. Hands clasped until the blood drains white. His tension in your body—like then…
I inhale deep. The smoke stings, harsh, like fingers squeezing my throat.
"You smoke?" he asks, surprised.
"Yes. I smoke."
"Since when?"
"Since you left me…"
I wish my voice carried no reproach, no sorrow. But it does... Still, I feel too much for him.
He says nothing. No excuses, no explanations. Maybe that's better. I couldn't stand his lies. And I don't want to talk. Not now.
About
Mira Marty is a pen name for an author exploring intimacy, memory, and trance-like states of mind. The work lives between text and voice — designed to be read and heard.
Audio experiences coming soon...