I awoke, this morning, to two voice mails from her. They reminded me of older messages I had; kept secreted away: cute, heartfelt and fun to remember. As I listened to her voice from last year telling me how she missed me I longed to be with her. I wanted to hold her, and when that delicate voice rang out, “I love you”… it pierced my heart. The tears came before I could think about them. I wanted to call her and cry my eyes out and tell her everything she meant to me. How she fulfilled me in ways I wasn’t sure I could ever repay, and promise to spend the rest of my life trying.
Averting disaster, I regained shaky control of myself before I could start dialing…
but the feeling has shadowed me all day… poking me with icicles and barbs when I am not paying enough attention to it.
I love the ways she hurts me.
When she dances, she moves with the divine grace of an angel’s strut. So smooth and fluid I swear she can walk on clouds; though when she touches me, she is no angel.
Her touch is light like feathered wings… but the fire that flows from those fingers is no heavenly construct. It burns me alive and makes me beg for more; and as her body slides away, I’m scorched… shaking.
The way we come together like a train wreck before the door is even closed; heart-stopping, and unfathomably primal. How she keeps ripping even after my ruined clothes have hit the floor. She gives no thought to the cuts, scratches, and bruises that she’ll apologize for tomorrow… The injuries I’ll wear like a shield.
The sweetness she whispers in my ears; honey that hurts more than the broken fingernail she left lodged in my back, framed in fresh blood.
When I crash into that apneic wall; when I can withstand the call of her sex no longer. Hand on my throat; her ragged nails squeeze the last drops of life out of me.
When she presses the angry red STOP button in between floors; she pushes and I feel that old mirrored wall turn to shards and splinters against the back of my head… the blood dripping down my nape… her hungry mouth bringing hot release.
I love the ways she hurts me.
January 09, 2006 @ 16:44
geez! Is this from Penthouse Letters?
Damn, time to turn up the air conditioning. Whew, where are the ice cubes?
… this scares me…
Daani You know you love it!
Thanks for the comments, guys! Nice to know you enjoyed it. This was a case of “oh, this old thing?” It sort of came into being last January and just sat there for a few months.
I finally decided to post it after I took a few things out of it. YES, Daani, this was actually edited for content. Thanks for the words of encouragement folks.
lol I thought I recognized it. =P I think I read this before but I couldn’t be sure.
It’s a great piece, but it still scares me.
You really gotta check out the song “Bloodsport” by the Sneaker Pimps. If you like, I’ll send you an mp3 of it to your email.