salt unto salt (berührungen)
midnight musings of may 2, 2025
Howdy! Remember Summer’23 when I used to write and press publish on a glimpse of my day right before or after midnight? For a month, I naturally returned to the practice and decided to release a collection of them for my readers on here for free :) Each one of these are usually under 500 words. I also attached the very first midnight musing for you to discover.
In this one, I actually talk about a man that I saw when I was 18 and he also came up in the lingering of the morning after, published this past thursday. I also made a TikTok of that lore the other day, but taken it down as soon as friends started seeing the post.
Howdy Bonnie! is my beloved online diary :) this tip jar is making it possible for you to access it, without having to commit to a subscription or paying for a full month. The minimum amount of this tip equals one week of my Substack. (to my paid subs: i freaking love you - thank you for seeing, reading & supporting me!!)
salt unto salt (berührungen)
may 2, 2025
this morning, i cried into your chest. your hands were stroking my hair. wet tears making their way from my bambi eyes onto your skin. salt unto salt. the taste of you still on my tongue. crying in the morning has been a recurring occurance lately. may is here, a month haunted by someone gone that meant more to me than anyone else i’ve met since then. maybe that’s not fully true. i’ve made friends that mean my entire world to me. who i couldn’t imagine living without. but then everything can just be gone as sudden as it came into my life. i’ve been learning that. forever, i guess. no specific time dated.
you moved your body, adjusted it to my frozen state. you simply held me. without asking any questions. we barely know each other. but definitely i’ve come to the conclusion that you don’t have to know someone to be intimate with them. to show your skin and be touched. and those moments are sometimes the ones that make me feel understood the most. you see someone in a way words would never give the space to allow you to. your cigarette glowed in the dark, long after you already fell asleep and i considered getting up, putting back my clothes and leave. the way i usually do it. the way i’ve done it since i turned eighteen and slept with a man i met the night before, us both being strangers in that city. did we seek just something to fill the void of loneliness? i stayed, so i actually wasn’t in desperate need of some solitude. to recharge, to let the berührungen1 wash over me. the point of contact. my liquid feelings running over your body. “i’m ruining the moment,” i thought to myself cause in the past, the response to my crying in bed was either a complete inepitude, not sure what to do or how to react, or an annoyance, a deep-moving sigh, signaling me that this is over. they will never see me the way i want to be seen. today was different, this morning i woke up, cried, was held by your hands and it wasn’t love i felt. i felt a relief, a wave of “thank fuck someone like you exists”.
If you enjoyed this one, feel free to become a free or paid subscriber. For May, I’m publishing twice a week - one midnight musing (under 500 words) and one journal entry (usually over 1k words).
this tip jar is making it possible for you to access it, without having to commit to a subscription or paying for a full month. The minimum amount of this tip equals one week of my Substack. (to my paid subs: i freaking love you - thank you for seeing, reading & supporting me!!)
berührungen (german): contingencies, haptics, points of contact (my translation: to touch or to move someone are berührungen)