At midnight, she peeled the transparent mask off her unwelcoming face and introduced me to her murky mind.
Earlier that night I sat close to you and told you about the first boy I ever went out with. Your eyes gleamed like diamonds nestled on the baked brown sands of our favourite beach.
It was shortly after the evening you cocooned me inside the warmth of your gentle heart. My voice drowned out the sounds of the fiery dragons she had sent our way.
As I lay sleeping during the early hours of the next day, I dreamt of your whipped cream-kissed lips approaching mine with the slowness of the rising winter sun. The whipped cream on our finger tips didn't want to be left out either.
But when the day had set well and truly in, I decided to pluck out the residual feelings and discard the unused sleepless nights that could have been spent. Her agenda was made clear and battle lines had been drawn. Feebly in my mind, firmly in hers.
It wasn't until the afternoon that I realised that there's no such thing as dismembering when it comes to you and me. Your reassuring words had a little to do with it, but not as much as your imprint upon my skin... the one that no one else can see. I knew I had to stay - not to witness how the rest of the story played out, but because I knew the story would never end.
So I returned temporarily to the mundane realm, smiling at the bizarre ways in which the truth is revealed to us and thinking that if it were physically possible to kiss the synapses of your brain, I would.
Earlier that night I sat close to you and told you about the first boy I ever went out with. Your eyes gleamed like diamonds nestled on the baked brown sands of our favourite beach.
It was shortly after the evening you cocooned me inside the warmth of your gentle heart. My voice drowned out the sounds of the fiery dragons she had sent our way.
As I lay sleeping during the early hours of the next day, I dreamt of your whipped cream-kissed lips approaching mine with the slowness of the rising winter sun. The whipped cream on our finger tips didn't want to be left out either.
But when the day had set well and truly in, I decided to pluck out the residual feelings and discard the unused sleepless nights that could have been spent. Her agenda was made clear and battle lines had been drawn. Feebly in my mind, firmly in hers.
It wasn't until the afternoon that I realised that there's no such thing as dismembering when it comes to you and me. Your reassuring words had a little to do with it, but not as much as your imprint upon my skin... the one that no one else can see. I knew I had to stay - not to witness how the rest of the story played out, but because I knew the story would never end.
So I returned temporarily to the mundane realm, smiling at the bizarre ways in which the truth is revealed to us and thinking that if it were physically possible to kiss the synapses of your brain, I would.
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