You linger, yet the time is short.... -Christina Rossetti, The Convent Threshold
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It's time to go, bit adieu to one and all.
The family that's kept you for the weekend, for less.
Beautiful mother, hair of gold thrumming with anxiety and softness. Eyes soft and sweet, hiding steel and iron. You're reminded of your mother, wonder if this woman hadn't grown up with such privilege, would she have met with the same fate?
Caring father, dark and joyful. You see a bit of yourself in his eyes, but when you enter his world, you know that he's miles away. He says he knows, he remembers, but when you notice the watch on his wrist -a Rolex, the car he drive's -a Lexus, and the mansion he lives in, you wonder if he ever had to worry.
Gentle, bitter son. He's unhappy with the life he leads, and the picture he makes. Welcomes you with open arms, as if you were a long-lost member of the family. He does not judge, does not care where you're from.
His comfort of choice is the sea, and his poison an unrequited love.
You watch him, drink him in quickly, because this might be the last memory you embrace before heading back into the shadows.
He's all eyes, all sharp angles and lines.
And when you kiss him, taste him, he stares at you with wide, innocent eyes. Unknowing and unseeing as your hands travel down his body. Memorizing the curve of his shoulder, the ripples of his spine.
The sand is cool under your feet, and you can hear the crowd of children closing in on you.
But you take your time when you kneel down in the sand and slowly unzip his pants.
You learn how he feels gasping and straining to stay on his feet. How his hands curl into your hair, and his thighs quiver as he comes.
Still kneeling as he drops down in front of you, and tugs you to him. His breath is quick, and deep, he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear his breath slow as he whispers he's so glad you're here.
Then he drifts off to sleep.
You hold his words close to your heart, then tuck them away to savor later.
You know you should leave this place, bring him home.
Instead, you stay, the sound of waves crashing behind you, and the soft caress of his breath on your neck.