The City Melts Between Us
I might miss this train because I am waiting for our coffee order, paper cup shaking, milk steaming like your breath, watching seconds crawl, the London-Edinburgh train humming somewhere ahead, wheels dragging, the world moving without me, and still I linger because you ping me hurry, love and I stop being myself and start being yours, hips swaying to a pop song that isn’t mine, eyes darting through the crowd, tracing the empty space where you should be, I love you through the ordinary: lids, tickets, napkins folded wrong, trembling pulse of running for you, leather and metal and perfume pressed to my cheek, train windows fracturing your reflection: jaw, cheek, half-smile, shards of you in green and brown stitched with mist rolling past, hand finding yours, fingers locking, tourists of each other mapping contours, counting breaths, soft certainty of pressed bodies, leaning into glass, letting the countryside slide across us, folding us into the motion of it, I press into you and you press into me and the train hums a heartbeat under our thighs, the rails vibrating through my bones, I could stay here forever, tracing you forever, tracing the motion of your shoulder under my palm, the curl of your fingers in mine, the slope of your jawline against the window light, tracing the world through you, we are collapsing into the same space, same air, same pulse, I want to fold the earth flat and press it against your skin. Edinburgh smells like salt and stone and wind, the streets breathing through cracks in the cobbles, narrow closes tilting under our boots, puddles reflecting the cloud-slivered sky, men spitting thick and loud, punctuation for a city that will not stop, I spit my gum against a castle wall, childish, defiant, you laugh, that laugh folding over the stones, shaking the air, bending the light, I let it bend me, fold me, press me into your weight, you hold me everywhere: over bridges, through crowds, under lamplight, and the city tilts with us, leaning, pressing, our hands clasped, fingers curling into each other like we are shaping the pulse of it, tram rails vibrating beneath, every step echoing, the wind tugging hair, pressing coats tight against bodies, you pressing me tighter, I am caught in the storm of your movement, in the collision of us with everything outside, letting it slide off. Italian diner, garlic and rain and neon humming like a tired heart, woman leans forward, asks if we are together, if we are in love, nod we nod, she says go be in love and happy, you blush, eyes bright, later tell me you found it unbearably beautiful, effortless, heart stirred by simplicity, I fold that into my chest, carry it through streets slick with rain, tram rails humming beneath boots, alleys twisting like veins, words becoming pulse, pulse becoming heartbeat, heartbeat becoming air we breathe, poems low and urgent, brushing against skin, sticking like wet laundry, laughter at how literature holds us together while the world insists we must be alone, sandwiches devoured fast, you eat fast, love faster, love before the world catches you, tempo of your body outrunning time, I could watch you sing all day, voice curling around stone, glass, wind, melody spilling over the city, I sit on your lap, knees tucked, say something ridiculous, outlandish, your laughter bursting, ricocheting off walls, building cathedrals inside my chest, pulling me closer, outside blurring: spitting men, taxis screaming, wind shredding cobbles into silver threads, nothing touches this space, only us, only rhythm, only storm. Our tiny guest house, dusty, warm with secrets, four-poster bed groaning under bodies, exhaustion pressing into sheets, you press your face into my neck whisper this could be anywhere and I’d still find you and I dissolve into that weight, let it teach me how to exist only in the space between your heart and mine, dust motes drift in shafts of sunlight, small planets orbiting us, candlelight flickering, poems read aloud, our bodies pressed, breath mixing, murmurs spilling through hair and arms and legs tracing the cracks, soft fractures, small openings, bleeding without fear, tender, cracking open together, learning how to hold each other while the world cannot care, only here, only now, tram rails, streets echoing our steps, coffee in corners, sunlight spilling gold, teeth, lips, eyes, hands, teeth, lips, eyes, hands, every motion folding over itself, over the city, over wind, rain, stone, over us. Arthur’s Seat, we climb metaphorically, me in recovery, you all sniffly, boots scraping rock, city unfolding beneath us like a secret scroll, you hold me as we ascend, I fold into you, heat countering wind, legs dangling over nothing, Edinburgh breathing beneath our knees, chest to my head, heartbeat thrumming mine, city nothing but us, enough enough enough, night air whistles through open windows, four-poster creaking, dust motes floating, moonlight splitting, candlelight flickering, poems murmured, whispers and sighs spilling through sheets, hair, arms, legs tracing the cracks, soft fractures, bleeding without fear, tender, cracking open together, letting the city melt around us. We wake late in sunlight slicing through posts, you cry over breakfast, marmalade on fingers, softly first, then openly, telling me about your love for literature, books breaking and repairing you, only things that make sense and leave you undone, I hold your wrist, thumb stroking, and think: this is love too, witnessing softness, surrender, insistence of a heart unmasked. We touch the harbour water, cold biting, shivering, hand over mine so I do not break, legs curled on your lap, whispering something impossible, laughing, folding into each other, kisses to hair, neck, temple, pressing into the weight of our own bodies, city pressing back at us, wind tangling hair, tram rails vibrating under boots, puddles reflecting every sky, every streetlight, every fragment of us, everything becoming motion, pulse, breath, tempo, storm, whirlwind, each of us cracking open tenderly, pressing, yielding, tracing each other, over and over, slipping into each other, slipping into the city, slipping into wind and rain and stone and glass, folding the streets into our skin, tram rails into our veins, the harbor into our mouths, the air into our lungs, everything dissolving into the other, touch into gaze, laughter into sigh, heartbeat into heartbeat, every moment folding into the next, collapsing, uncatchable, unstoppable, relentless, tender, furious, tender, consuming, bending, pressing, folding, folding, holding, holding, holding, teeth, lips, eyes, hands, cold water, warm sunlight, dust motes, marmalade, laughter, poems, whispers, wind, rain, tram, harbour, street, stone, cobbles, reflections, city melting into bodies, bodies melting into each other, bodies melting into city, bodies melting into wind, we melt, we dissolve, we press, we breathe, pulse, tempo, storm, storm, storm, motion, rhythm, folding into each other until the city itself is nothing but us, until time itself folds, bends, slides, nothing but the motion, the storm, the love, the pulse, the breath, the teeth, lips, eyes, hands, the friction, the fire, the tenderness, the storm, the city, the bodies, the pulse, the breath, the motion, the folding, the holding, the storm, the hurricane of love and tenderness and furious impossible devotion, relentless, unrelenting, unstoppable, collapsing, folding, melting, burning, consuming, pressing, breathing, pressing, folding, pressing, melting, melting, melting, folding into each other and into the city and into the storm and into the pulse until everything is us and everything is now and everything is only this and we are only this and the city, and the wind, and the tram, and the cobbles, and the puddles, and the dust, and the laughter, and the heartbeat, and the storm, and the love, and the folding into each other, and the pressing, and the breathing, and the melting, and the folding, and the holding, and the storm, and the city, and the bodies, and the motion, and the storm, and the love, and we dissolve, we press, we breathe, we hold, we press, we fold, we melt, we burn, we are, we are, we are.
Hey friends,
Thank you for reading SISSY ANARCHY. Over the next few months, I will officially become a paid newsletter.
I’m so happy with what has grown here and I’m really proud of how much my writing has evolved with a growing audience who cares about trans voices, literature, poetry, love and all the messy in-betweens.
Going paid means I can keep making work that refuses to compromise to a growing media landscape that would rather trans voices silenced. You will find no mindless poetry and no viral garbage here. Instead, I will continue filling this space with — mine and guest writer’s — raw and unfiltered literary scribblings; words you can actually get lost in with your coffee or in bed, while the world’s algorithms choke on their own trash.
If you join as a paid subscriber, you’ll get:
Monthly columns and essays
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Reviews and reading recommendations
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I’ll still send free posts now and then, but if you’ve loved being part of this, and you’re in a place to support it, I’d love to have you along.
All my love,
P.
WRITTEN BY: P. ELDRIDGE
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This is so fuckin gorgeous