Blemishes
I Have A Dream-ABBA
In blackjack, twenty-one is a lucky number. You win if you reach twenty-one. But the way up to twenty-one is a gamble...
Do you ask for another card? Or do you stay where you are? At twelve or some other obscene number.
Nobody ever knows do they? Cause we all gamble. With money, with love, with sex, and, of course, with life.
I gambled and I lost. I'm still reeling from it in my own little place. Its a different feeling being dead. People on Earth always say they feel dead inside. But being dead isn't so bad really. You have no worries. There's none of those little things that quirk in the back of my mind. I let it sit and I'm content. No one judges me here. Finally, finally.
I'm safe.
James Potter, I've discovered is a person with vast secrets. He's a very intriguing person.
When I was young my mother told me a lie. She told me if I kept secrets, told lies, and kissed to boys. I would have a dirty heart and die. But you don't get a dirty heart from those things. You get a dirty soul. A soul that reeks with unrefined dignity. A strange thing that makes no sense. How can your soul still take pride in itself when it is so filthy and unworthy? Its an question no one can seem to figure out.
I can't relate to James. I have tried but I never will.
He has a depth of warmth and he is ever so profound. I wish...I wish I had gotten to know him more. Heard him and been his friend. Tell him my deepest secret that had made that deep pit in my soul.
But instead I listen to his late night confessions and how he explains things to an invisible confidant. He convinces himself.
"I'm different from them. Because I feel. I feel. And sometimes...I wish I can't."
James' secrets are so numerous. They are deliciously absurd that they would run poor Lily's mind wild. But he already does. He drives Lily mad.
At night she imagines him next to her. Him holding her, taking her all in. She imagines his hands running over her body in a way undetermined by ordinary men.
She imagines his hands on her back. Holding her tightly and securely. She thinks he's wonderful like this. And he is.
She imagines his body creating a delightful pressure on her own. Delicious and loving. She thinks he's spectacular. And he is.
She imagines him kissing her. With such passion she feels dizzy. Drunk and in a haze. She thinks he's delightful. And he is.
She imagines him losing himself in her. Wildly abandoning himself. Crashing and falling. She thinks he's broken. And he is.
She imagines his caresses. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin. The feel of him and her. Moving together. Lust and want melding. She thinks that's all there is. But its not.
She imagines him never thinking this way. So that these images exist only for her. That he never dreams of them together. She thinks she's right. But she's not
She thinks its debauchery. And it is.
He's talking to himself again. James Potter. He is different. But ordinary. All the while he talks the invisible confidant listens.
"I want to be like rain. Unpredictable and no one knows when I'll leave. Something some people hate and others love. And everyone needs. But instead I'm more like the earth. Selfish and unworthy. I just take whatever the rain will give me. That's why I'll never have her. She's rain and I'm the earth."
mad.
At night she imagines him next to her. Him holding her, taking her all in. She imagines his hands running over her body in a way undetermined by ordinary men.
She imagines his hands on her back. Holding her tightly and securely. She thinks he's wonderful like this. And he is.
She imagines his body creating a delightful pressure on her own. Delicious and loving. She thinks he's spectacular. And he is.
She imagines him kissing her. With such passion she feels dizzy. Drunk and in a haze. She thinks he's delightful. And he is.
She imagines him losing himself in her. Wildly abandoning himself. Crashing and falling. She thinks he's broken. And he is.
She imagines his caresses. Flesh on flesh, skin on skin. The feel of him and her. Moving together. Lust and want melding. She thinks that's all there is. But its not.
She imagines him never thinking this way. So that these images exist only for her. That he never dreams of them together. She thinks she's right. But she's not
She thinks its debauchery. And it is.
He's talking to himself again. James Potter. He is different. But ordinary. All the while he talks the invisible confidant listens.
"I want to be like rain. Unpredictable and no one knows when I'll leave. Something some people hate and others love. And everyone needs. But instead I'm more like the earth. Selfish and unworthy. I just take whatever the rain will give me. That's why I'll never have her. She's rain and I'm the earth."
Despair its who James Potter is. They drive me crazy with their newly found grown up respects. Hes not an adult because adults are not grown up. They are teenagers still living in the body of a fully grown human. A showing of one of the great mysteries of this Earth. He is grown up he is not an adult.
Lily and James' despair is so minimal at the moment I want to cry again. They'll lose themselves in each other in a way I never got to experience. Its crazy. Its mad. I wish I'd had it.
A/N: I know its short. But I wrote this over a week and I couldn't thinkof an ending. I'll write more and er better next chapter. Well...I'll try. I love the abba song I decided to go along with this. If you like Abba tell me in your review cause I love you forever. But! If someone tells me they don't like Abba but they like fuggin ATeens one more time I'm gunna hurt someone. Wanna see a pic of me cause I'm totally in love witrh myself lol? go here: http/i4. -Kel(crickethater)
