Call Me by Your Name

Call Me by Your Name ★★★★★

skin under sun. skin that defies the abasement it's subjected to, still starkly white though the sun beats down on it all summer through the intermittent leaves. skin on your fingers as they lift and bestrew your melodies through the house in the afternoons, through the air in the night, and through the daydreams you have in between those two. skin in the game as you gaze upon human marble sculpted by michelangelo himself; impossibly curved, nonchalant, daring you to desire it. skin touches skin and all is right—the sky is whatever color you want it to be and the universe lingers on his linger and stops when he makes his move. and then skin that's stained with tears and dried by the fire as you watch your time together burn; your memories together smolder, all the looks and nights and music and summer smiles fade and give way to the winter, leaving you and your nostalgia alone and melancholy somewhere in northern italy.

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