He said:” Sometimes you look at me and I am afraid you see everything.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had made different choices? If we would not have gotten with the people we are with now or the ones before them.”
“We lay in the beds we make.”
I wonder if you enjoy the bed you are laying in now.
I always wrote about how our love was red. It is the colour that came to mind each time I thought of you. Red like the lipstick you liked seeing smeared on your skin. Red like the blood on my swollen lip from your teeth. Red like the colour of my skin under your vehement touch. Red like the wine you poured over and drank from my body. Red like the stains on your living room carpet. Red like my cheeks each time you spoke to me. Red like our fire. Red like our passion. Red like our violence.
Red like my scarlet letter.
There was nothing pretty about our feelings for each other. There were no colours. No red. Only black like the shadows you always kept me hidden in. Black like the cavity you burrowed right through my heart to make sure nobody else could find their way there. Black like the feeling dirty every time I let you inside me. Black like what it said about my soul that it felt so right, that I could not quit it, that I still liked it. Black like a nasty little addiction. Black because there was nothing pure about the words you ever said to me or any of the thoughts you had about me. Black because we did not exactly start out innocent. Black because we would go on to do worse.
I left your place with marks all over my body. Bruises forming from the way you and I made love. Little evidence of where you had been. Claims in your name to something you never wanted to keep. I would carry them around the one wears a diamond ring. Like they spoke about your love for me. Like they were a promise. I would carry them proudly. I would wear them as my favourite dress. They would fade from purple to blue to green to yellow to nothing. A lot like the way I felt. I could only wait for the next time I could walk through your door for you to greet me with your usual “I missed you.”
I feel him reach for me in the darkness of the room. The temperature is nearly perfect, warm without being stuffy, chill enough not to make the hair on your arms stand up. I am drunk, I know this because I only see him in freeze frame. I know what his mouth tastes like candy and spiced rum. I am still not sure how I got here. I remember Marilyn Manson and the hysterical laughter. My heart feels full. He says something like, “this is why just kissing never works. It always leads to this.” I smile. He is not gentle with me but it is intimate, not ugly. His lips keep brushing my earlobe, he is a talker. In this frame, I dig my nails in his chest. My knees sting, I am positive they are bleeding. Is that Skrillex? Maybe. He smiles and tells me I should not have kept filling his glass. I replied with a, “huh, well how was I to know this would happen?” I cannot be sure, but I think he is surprised by this statement. I am completely wrapped up in him. I can smell his skin, the softness of his hair, the tickly, butterfly wing flutter of his eyelashes on my throat. He has my hair held tightly in his fist so my head is pulled backwards. I do not bother to stifle the sounds my mouth wants to make.
No one can hear us anyway.
Some hours later I sit in the sun and I am conflicted. It was a Hollywood-esque encounter: hearts pounding, breathlessness and set to a great soundtrack. I suppose I should have seen it coming.
Machines of Loving Grace said it best when they said, “Don’t place faith in human beings, human beings are unreliable beings”.
That being said, love them anyway. People are full of holes, faults and serious hang-ups. The more bruised they are, hold them tighter.
Sharing space with People in certain Places will create memories. You have little control over this, but be aware when you want to invite your beloved to your secret little hovel – one day this Place might cause you pain because of your decision (alternately, this place might then become ELECTRIC).
People enjoy Things more than Places. The act of gift giving makes some People feel JOY. Things can be stolen, given to someone else, thrown in the ocean or set on fire. Cherish Things if you must but understand they are not substitutes for People.