Friday, July 30, 2010
Beauty
"And now?" he asked. He took hold of the Zinfindel and refilled her glass.
"Now." A pause to reflect and savour the wine that had been strenghened by time and the care of a young vintner. "Now. I do believe that I have bleed out, scabbed over and healed up. And you know, as ugly as that all was for a time, HELL, as ugly as I was for a time, it's woven itself to become the most beautiful pieces of me."
"Impossible for me to conceive of you ever be anything other than beautiful." His voice calm and seductive, the hours of the day beginning to stretch their way into the early morning but yet to see the light.
"Ah, but you and I" pausing for another sip of liberation "declare beauty quite differently. These breasts and this skin along my neck are reminders that beauty is a flower whose bloom is in youth. Fleeting. Illusion. Proof only that we have this temporary power to lay men at our feet, hopeful that we might spread ourselves before them."
She held the glass upward, intoxicated by both the words she spoke and the shadows that swirled around them. "We are all in the grip of time's embrace." Philospophical now, her words walking the razors edge of two worlds "She my friend forgets no one and waits for none. But she does, if we are priviledged enough and brave enough, show us that beauty is everything, even the things most of us can't bare to see in others, let alone ourselves."
On The Wall
"I'm not finished" she said in a low and pleading whisper. "We're not done yet. Maybe we haven't even started. Are you going to be this ghost? Invading my dreams and waking me only to ask if I will forever be wanting you?"
Drawn closer, fogging the glass she closer her eyes and exhaled deeply. It was his breath that returned to warm her face. The salt of her tears at the surface now.
"Feel this. Feel me." Her hand fisted, instinctively rubbing over the hollow of her breast above the heart. His face filing up her mind's eye. Her flesh burning in sensation as though he were touching her the way she'd imagined it had always been between them.
"We're not done. We are not done." And with that she tried to let go of the pleasure she sought from the pain, in search of some joy that had mostly eluded her.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Mustard Pickles
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Making Sense
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Apart
The Story of Us.
They sat in the shadow of the full moon's light. And when she looked up it was ringed by a prism halo, spilling colours that were generally difficult to see in the dark. And it shone so bright the other stars forgot their light.
“Do you ever wonder how we made it this far?” His hand tightened around hers and he pulled her in a little closer. Knowing she was prone to asking existential questions, he hesitated to give an answer. “Yes” he finally acknowledged, as though that one word might be enough, when in reality he had no idea what she was probing for.
“Really? Cause I have no clue!” And with that she laid herself out across his lap, hugging his knees to her chest. “But somehow we did it. All these years and here we are.”
He kissed her on the forehead, lingering for just an extra second to smooth her hair. And he wondered, albeit to himself, how the gods had chosen him to love her. Somewhere, somehow he expected there must be a plan greater than the moon. And was thankful to be a part.