Nights in New York are spectacular, dim and broad, it seems like the whole of the city is with your simple view from my window quite takes my breath away and the stars to shine a little bright tonight. Tonight, of all nights, when I am bold as a wolf and a starved as an orphan, I imagine myself with him among the rustles of the woods. We make love slow and unfathomably, his frame outlined by the canopy of trees and the midnight moon dances. He kisses me everywhere, until my entire flesh feels new and soft like treated silks. My nerves burst and fill again, until they ache with his loving. I call his name and it disappears in the mist of our affections. Like we are in space, where nothing reaches us.
As morning breaks, I can taste the sweat of him on my lips and my body aches from my allusions. The stark light of morning blinds me with it's candor and vividness and I find I am crying again, as I usually do after my bold nights. The vacancy of my heart fills my entire body until I feel as a puppet, soulless and aching to feel complete again. The day of classes go by numbly and no one takes note of my ghoulish nature or my wasted appearance, they accountant to matters of 'women' and go about their business. Discussions of anatomy and alchemy do not stir my soul today and bore me with their repetitive nature. This is how we die, this is how we become sick shadows, this is how we lose ourselves amongst the crowd. Each and everyday, we die, bits and tattered pieces of our souls linger and hope for salvation, for something that will not come and then they fall, shattered and life-worn. Every single, bloody day. I feel like the weight of half of my soul gone, like I could levitate and go to where this promised Heaven is, that not even the Devil's hardships could weight me down enough to pin me in the first ring.
As the day passes, I feel faint and as if I am drowning like a sick kitten, down to my last breath. The weight of my boldness crushes me down with unexpected cruelty and I feel as I am walking with a thousand Earths upon my fragile shoulders. I sprawl out upon my bed, feeling sorry to have been in love and feeling hatred for myself for my nature toward my most favored memories. Without warning, I feel the gentle caress of callous fingers against my cheek, warm like summer rains. I saw it without knowing I have done so, for the name is so deeply embedded, it must be carved into my very being. "...k-Kartik?" It's a stumble, the word burns coming up, my muscles catch fire and for a moment, I am burning myself alive. He looks older now, it being a year since that day. His eyes have grown lighter, like honey. His once wild mane of curls has been replaced by a close cut like those you see in all the fashionable magazines. His face has grown sharper with age and he likes a man in his early 20's because he is nearing that age. He wears a fitting white shirt, a loose black tie, and fashionable trousers that make him looks like a right Londonier.
"I'm here." It's all he says, it's all he has to say before we are locked in a feverish embrace and are exploring each other with new found passions. I don't stop to ask questions, nor do I care. All that matters is he is here with me, all soul and all man. The weight of him is surprising, the new weight of his adult muscles have gained him weight. It matters me none and I accept the generous warmth of his new sculpted frame. I take a second to appraise him, touching him and learning him like a map I might someday need dire use of. A thick line of dark hair crawls up his stomach, spreading into a triangle shape at the base of his trousers. His face has not changed much, I notice, with his new age, his eyes are still soft for me. The brightness of a small changing them into warm pots of melting chocolates. We make love until we are love-sick and we are caught up in loving each other in new ways, with soft murmurings and hot kisses.
Like so many illusions, as day breaks once again, he is gone. The sun erasing him, but not his affections which now cling to me like warm skin. With my nightgown stuck to me by so much sweats, I lay there, afraid to open my eyes for I know he will be gone and my heart once again strewn like useless skeletons. I waste the day like this, laying still, with my hand on my heart to cease it's rapid pace, which does nothing to calm it. The Sun calms and day finally comes to an end, the night, like soothing morphine for my aches. The haunts of the room soon overcome me and make me half sick of shadows. The perpetual emptiness settles within me and I recline, allow all the monsters to have a take in the feast of my mind. My heart, heavy with sorrows, thumps along slowly, itself wishing to help.
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Written on: Darkroom (Simplistic wordprocessor. Check it out.)
Written listening to: All American Rejects (When The World Comes Down)
Writting influenced by: Nothing. ALL ME BABY! . . Maybe some Libba Bray.
Written about: Gemma Doyle Trilogy
Written for: I got bored..............^-^
Last words: Feel free to leave a 1,000 word long comment telling me how absolutely fantastic I am. ^-^ Otherwise, feel free just to leave ah one sentence comment. Its...whatev. I do like comments though...
Krystal Cardona