About you

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studio-mebeli.ru

19.05.2012

About you

The eyes, they shone like night windows lit by little candles, like she never seen them before. She even fed herself with an illusion that she awoke a feeling in his mind… Yes, mind, the riddle she was not able to solve, she afraid of his thoughts. They penetrate with their aggression, pessimism and belief in the worst of fragments of someone’s bad trip. The words gone dark but the moment I want to express is an eternity of the sweetest of all dreams, just as the reality always brings us to the end of it all.

You don’t feel the room, neither the usual cold. Only his look, mysterious, yet you can tell how pure and clean it is, loving. He looks right through and you don’t feel a need for words anymore. He gently kisses, still he looks. You get no more than a third of a second to see his half closed, tired eyes in between gentle rain of kisses. And once he holds you in his arms your mind is opiated. You try to inhale as much of the touch as possible, to record every neural impulse it sends, every cell carries it’s memory. You think how warm his hands are, how soft are his movements, he explores your body but this time not because you want some comfort, but because he needs to feel you. Next you move your mind to the kisses, and you throw a glance at his lips, and then you can’t take your eyes of them, red, soft, with a perfect outline, you think you could live your life just lying there under the heat of his body without feeling gravitation and looking at those lips in between his kisses. That serious expression on his face as if he concentrated all his senses to record those moments of me putting so many feelings in grabbing the back of his neck, feeling his hair. He exhales, his teeth clench, and the darkness falls upon those lips. Now you realize how lost you are but you don’t want it to end… You feel that he is that missing part that could make you whole again. Once it’s over you kiss his chin slowly followed by his neck, his shoulder….. smooth skin, the smell makes your mind wonder in rainbow circles… candlelight, quiet music… just it’s presence on it’s own adds to the atmosphere. And then he gets up and goes away leaving you to the darkness and silence and all of your worlds explode at once like a needled balloon… and then it’s just empty and it hurts.

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And his reply was:

The pain she endured was not alone yet not with companion. Similar pain of separation was being felt on the other side, the man she couldn’t touch, couldn’t see, couldn’t taste felt not a shiver but a burn. A blistering ache in the pit of the stomach a desire that he knew couldn’t be satisfied. The want to see her was not small, far from it but his touch he knew wouldn’t provide the shelter of a campfire and chase away the cold but scorch the flesh and scar the body, of her.

He tosses and turns through a dreamless sleep, waking, finding himself in a pool of his own sweat. Seeing nothing in the dark room is own small black abyss, darkness the only thing that can smoother his want, his need. Moving past the mirror glad he can’t see his reflection, doesn’t matter if there was light or not the permanent marker would distort any image of him, an act to prevent him from seeing the hollowed out corpse he has become. He walks around in darkness steps on something so hot that it feels cold; the sweet blissful smell of his own blood spilt in desperation reaches his nose. Even out of him it sizzles, mocking him for another failed attempt to stop the intense forge burning within him. Stepping around the puddle he approaches the door he hears it, it stops him, a voice, stoic and sinister, making his bubbling blood turn lukewarm for an instant. This voice is recognizable, a part of him, a part of him he hates, yet must trust. Nor demanding nor angry it questions his intentions of what he will do outside the safety of his room, his domain. He can’t lie, it’s within him, the voice knows every answer but keeps asking anyway. The questioning done, the voice satisfied with the answers provided quiets, he leaves the room his nostrils flair smelling burnt flesh and smoke, this is normal he is smelling his own pungent aroma. He decides to leave and reach out and never come back.

He finds himself back in the sweet darkest corner of his hole much faster than he would have ever wanted to. He is lying on the ground shirtless one jean leg ripped and one shoe missing. Hands and body are covered with something sticky with what he would guess was blood there is an open switchblade next to him reflecting black deeds that occurred back at him. Some of the blood is his; recognizable by the burning tingle, yet there is someone else’s mixed in with it, cooling the temperature of his. He is aware of the pain he causes; he doesn’t know who it was this time. Sadly he thanks that person for they have eased his suffering by a fraction. Not knowing how to make amends he climbs back into bed feeling ashamed for hurting a person unnecessarily. He curses, himself and the never ending emptiness that rages within him, in an un-original fashion having no new insults he could use.

Trying to calm his radioactive heart to be able to fall into another restless sleep, anywhere else but the conscious world where he could hurt those he cares for.