I can smell the sex on my skin, his kisses linger like the dampness from rain after a drought. His touch has leaked into my body, I'm more of what he is than what I am. The wet sloppiness of the action haunts me, patches of spit, cum whatever plague my unsuspecting mind. I didn't care about what I could have done. Now I'm aching not from the emotions because I don't feel them, he was a body and I was a body and we momentarily combined. Grunts,gasps and moans but nothing more. Choking, spewing laughing. It was just a natural reflex I don't want more from you.
Looking up into the dazzling sun your eyes take 3 good seconds to adjust, although that time dissipates incredibly fast sometimes you can elongate the blurring sun and create a mini time capsule to encase the moment. With an aggressive yellow tingling through your face the speckles seem kind and welcome, they dance on your eye, on the glistening film not dissimilar to faeries or less "artificially" stars that have just begun to twinkle in a muted summer air.
"Tell me about something beautiful" she spoke with a gentle hum that soften the air and made the world slow down to a gradual more manageable place. I took a deep breath, my exhale washed over her arm, I could smell her sticky, salty sweet skin I wanted to breathe her smell forever, but that moment was all I had and so I saved it, locked it deep away inside my head vaults chained, stowed and protected like the most precious black opal in all existence. When I looked up into her glassy eyes I realised that her question still lingered, I watched as her blackened eyelashes splintered dust through the tiny beams of sunlight that cascaded down, speckled and messy and I waited for inspiration to guide me to the perfect response. My tongue felt swollen in my cheeks and my blood was expanding my capillaries making a redness erupt over me, pink and embarrassed I gazed deeper, past the glinting glass film into the depths of her pale blue Irises. She wetted her lips with the quick flick of her tongue and detangled the mess of our limbs, rising quickly which jaunted me into a sudden fall from pleasure. I lay sprawled on the grassy ground alone and suddenly colder. I followed her shadow as she strode in defiant loops around me. Finally she stopped. Turned her lofty head of bouncing curls towards me and spoke. ""Tell me about something beautiful so I can forget out how ugly this is." She spoke with a grimace and a disgust tainted the air but I could see the truth behind her tone, she leaked pure hatred from the love between us because the years of learning that it was wrong had concocted a mixture of confusion and hate inside her, I turned my head away to shield the tears that fell as pure as dew drops onto the grass. I didn't respond and I felt her leave as I wept alone and loudly for all the hatred in the world, but mostly for the loss of happiness that is destroyed by the ideas of wrong and right, natural and sinful,
We live in a world of splintered equality, where equal means two differing things for the two differing sides.
We have the equality that brings the illusion of equality, you live in a life that doesn't wrong you based on who you are because you are the norm. You're the greetings card smile, you're the perfect shade of foundation, you're the perfect blend of all creation, you pay all your bills and watch the news and when faced with the idea that inequatily is raging and blooming from everywhere you love, you try to help. You try to help as though it's a deadly disease in which you're immune, fundraising, article bashing, protesting, tweeting, hashtagging and wrist band wearing. You help from the comfort of your cynically equal life as you sip your herbal tea, hug your opposite sexed spouse and climb into bed, with the worry that all this worry will cause you wrinkles on your crayon 'flesh' skin.
Then there is the other side, where equality is an extended twisted joke, hanging over everything you do like a rancid smell clinging to that rotton wound. When you express difference by whom you love, your equality is weakened because now you are a 'gay' friend. When you're born to a family with a different shade of skin to the one that has been glorified, normalised and expected your equality is now something others give to you like favours, you're now the neighbour who bled diversity into this town. When you have legs that don't work or another 'disability' your equality is mistaken for the 'luck' that modern science has been good enough to give you an equal opportunity. When you live in a world where equality is a word that seems to be misused as much as literally you become cynical that equality is even possible.
We are judgemental by nature, or so we are told. That biologically we seek out the stronger beings, the smarter beings, the ones who will lead us further onwards to excellence, but we are more than whatever we are told we have the choice to decide. As for now, I'll wait and I'll watch the 'equal' days blend into 'equal' nights and I'll listen to everyone voice their views on human rights. I'll sit back and see a girl in my class as she writhes at a term she believes is against her feminine rights. I'll walk along the road with my hair down and curly and I'll watch all the people stare and call me a 'caramel beauty' and I'll sit down to dinner with my grandparents present, and hear them spout views on the latest immigrant development as we share a meal of Moroccan decent as they drink wine from across the border and even travel to holiday in these other places. I'll bide my time in this inequality and I'll do my very best to get the very best of the parts of me that can still benefit from the turntable of equality.
Disdain greets me like an old friend, we dance in my brain unwinding thoughts like film tapes sending brown filters of memories to the ground like ribbons of brown cellophane dipped in brain juice. In my dreams the algae is my sadness a pollutant still green and bright mixing up my judgement, sending me through fits of goosebumps, lashings of hot sticky tears, a mouthful of words which taste like spikes and share like poison and once they're said they float around stinging and being, an annoying buzz like blue bottles and the guilt of feeling guilt. My reflection shows me who I am, I can't help my tears I can't help my disappointment and I cry and cry but not alone, and not without consequence.
When I was smaller, when I thought less about me and my future all I hoped for was more, just more time to be with you, a heavy hand shake or a stupid wink. It isn't enough my heart is leaking my blood has run too many times without necessity. Even breathing is hard when you cannot trust your mouth enough not to be spiteful, but the spite is just and the disgust isn't in vain. Wasting my dreams was your byproduct your whole presence shattered my illusions. I want to hurt you I want you to feel dread and loneliness in your desires, I want your head to swell when the thoughts of me are the star show and I need you to understand that you are responsible for my heartbreak. You are a bad person.
Although you said you'd always love me, you moved far far away. And your body being gone wasn't nearly as bad as your rotting interest and your bland desires for me weren't good enough to convince. Tick tick tock tock, and all this time I thought of you as special but everyone knew that you are not. A bag of bones and salty red water, wrinkles, moles and freckles, I used to think the whole wide world of you, your young sweet daughter, but now you are a fucking fraud a mad man trapped in fickle dreams. I don't think your words are like magic, your hugs don't keep me safe and your eyes are just as shallow as your dreams. I used to think you'd stop the world for me but all the effort you put was for the image of you, a tall warm 'stranger' with riches to share and every time I pulled new clothe over my skin, you missing from my parents evenings was cloaked. With every random gift, the absence of your wisdom was forgotten. With every meal you didn't cook, the daily need for your company was sifted away. However it was never going to be enough, all the faint, ghostly memories of actually having a dad, the most I recall are the long phone calls to others that you held. The snoring Saturdays and Sundays, the lazy lazy weeks, the 33 second conversations the 3 response texts. The day trips that soon excluded me as soon as you lost the sparkle in my eyes. The sarcasm that mingles instead of real life bonding, you don't know me and I don't know you. It's a wonder we even do this at all.
But it gets to a point when you only need one person to drive crazy, gone are the days of dressing up to the nines with that killer lipstick and heels so high they make your mama cry, gone are the flirtatious winks and sultry smiles. No more waiting at bars with row upon row of free drinks in man or woman form. Because one day you just want one person to set your body on fire when they touch you, one pair of lips that dope you into submission, one pair of eyes that you want to see the whole wide world with. There is only one person you want to drive so crazy that they cannot go a day without needed to breathe near you. And one day I hope that you'll find them.
Through paper thin skin your pulse vibrates, the wrinkles ripple over the cascading length of all of you. Damp hair clumping to itself and it smells of soap it dangles over me and over you and combines us, your hardened fingertips scratch my soft untouched skin, your white blazing teeth sink into me, but gently gently and caring. I can taste your breathe and the mints that you ate, I can feel your heart beat and the excitement in your touch and I want you I want you I have you. When soft spoken words are whispered to me my eyes feel heavy and viscous. Your kisses lull me their balmy thickness dopes me, drugs me and calms me.
And sometimes I wish that the world would be quiet just for me, so that I could feel the silence, to know it and to remember it. Then slowly and not until I'm ready I'd want the world to start again. I can imagine the whirring clogs creak and chatter. We'd start with the soft sounds, gentle padding of water droplets and twining birdsong- a mixture of whistles sniffles and crunches. The gentle harmonies of the rippling waves folding back forever into the horizon, I'd want to hear the dawn snap into existence, feel the vibrations from the wave of yawns. Slowly the breathing from everything filters into the mix, next it would be the laughter and only the joy, a trickling giggle a booming cackle, a stifled snort. I'd want to hear the buzzing of wasps and the clicking feet of insects scurrying, the incessant chatter of words upon words chucked in with a chaotic mingle of guitars, harps and flutes. Their tones clanging and banging and suffocating the silence.
To then be greeted by the whirling winds and rippling shadows from the sounds of the earths bubbling core. Get down on all fours and press my face to the ground to hear the rumbles and grumbles from the beautiful sounds of a crackling fire, a sound of warmth, lust and desire. A thick balm of indulgence when I here the sounds of rustling leaves or an animals call. Distorted echoes travelling miles upon miles, he tempting whistles; the uglier ones too. Tyres screeching,children weeping, phones beep beep beeping. A catastrophic muddle of all the sounds blurring together and inaudible clutter of life.
Her dark hair rippled in loose ringlets around her, she stole furtive glances upwards creasing her almond eyelids and making me believe that I could hear the flitting of her long luscious eyelashes. Dark and glorious, she had masked them with a thin layer of hastily applied mascara and her face shone with the unnatural gleam of glitter and gold, but her lips; pursed and ready, were that of flower petals and in that moment she blossomed for me. My head swooned and replacing the girl before me was now a blooming masterpiece of twining and intricate petals mixed with delicate scents of purity and mystery. And it was in that moment that I longed to be her. I thought of how beautiful life must be for a flower, everyone mourns for you in winter and adores you in summer.
And although the air that I breathe now isn't refreshing me, I know that one day soon it will. And despite the heavy bags beneath my eyes that embody my tired spirit I know that soon they will be gone. The fidgeting that comes with boredom, stress and loneliness will pass and I know I'll be still once more, and soon.
The leaves will still brown and trickle to the ground where they crunch into pieces which are taken away on the winds, the waves will still churn up the bays and the shores, they will still clash and spray, the wind will still whip and whirl running wild through the towns and the people within them, and of course the rain will still pour and drench cold wet and heavy.
And just because I am sad now, and just because I am stressed doesn't mean I don't hear the birds chirping and flitting in their nests. Just because my eyes glimmer with tears and my nails are stumps laced with powdery skin doesn't mean I don't feel the soft embraces of those who care. I may feel numb and broken but I know that the cracks inside me can be filled with the cement that beauty allows.
And when I am better, and when I feel well, I will thank the sadness and the tears and I will learn from them. But hopefully they won't return again soon.
Do you know how petrified I am of failure, my brain is rotting away patches of it diseased and spreading. My eyes are staying in the past but my mind is in the present and the constant lurching between the two swirls sickness within me, I taste the bile from a riling empty stomach too uneasy to eat. My skin flakes away with each gentle touch rough and calloused like my forgotten dreams. The nervous voice which represents me doesn't share my personality, I've been weakened my spirits have collapsed.
But your eyes have become old, even though I never thought they could, and your voice is gruff and haggard although the soft undertone remains. I walk with you but this time I'm ahead, this time I look back to see a shaggy pavement drizzled with stones, your lofting body crinkled and old, liver spots darkened cheeks hollowed out, skin like the skin on custard. Your fingertips are calloused and I wonder how you still feel, your eyelashes are receding and I wonder what it's like when you cry, your lips are thinning and your healthy fat has burned away. Skeletal you are before me, the shadow of the shadow that you once were. Puddles of tears well in my eyes when you struggle with my name, torrents of tears fall when you can't recall my face. But a dry silence takes over me when I finally say good bye, because all the salty tears I cried for you - just hurt your too bad too.
We are taught to be hopeless romantics. Sneaking furtive glances through secret strands of hair, smiling briefly at beautiful passers by. We look for love in tight lipped affairs, where eyelashes mimic words, flirtatious and sultry but all too innocent. We see love in the silence of strangers and we intoxicate our minds, with the romantic thought of blatant desire masked by etiquette and polite ways of life. To the boy who sips the bitter coffee and becomes dizzy from the deep hues of the expression bean, he sits and waits, alone. Staring deeply at the motions of the freckle clad barista. To the girl who gets to the station at 8:05am so she can wait and wait for her clandestine lover who doesn't know that her heart flips every time she sees them, she doesn't care for the whipping wind as long as she gets her daily fix of hopeless romance. Lingering eye contact moments too long, with your mysterious parter as the elevator creaks and rattles. Playing with perfectly painted nails as you avert your eyes, feeling the alluring stare of a well dressed admirer burning under the skin. Blood boiling accidental touches and minimal words, letting bodies move awkwardly but naturally as chemistry sparks between them. Rising tension and rapid beating hearts; thuds so intense they rumble all around. But all in all when the day has ended and everything you wanted and everything you needed - just the touch of someone's soft hand to show that you are real, is concealed, leaked into the darkness. And once again your body is covered- not revealed.