Whispered promises in the dark fade with the mist of the morning. Wiry fibers of the unused sheets press patterns into my back; with a semi circle of a smile I will acknowledge them later.
Bitter blood red coated nails freshly painted smear into the sheetrock, flecks are left in the alabaster of your skin.
In the dark they are evidence of our wildness, our freedom, small flecks of us tearing away and into each other.
We meet but only in small parts–bodies, eyes, or selves–never at the same time.
My mouth opens to breathe a soft release–softer than I would like, a mere shadow on my skin. With the light the shadows will recede…I will not view it later, I will find no evidence of its existence.
I prefer bruises, soft and harsh and mine to keep.
Stay, my mouth forms, my heart stuttering to a slow stall.
I notice another fleck on your back.
This one will be permanent.
Shadows fall across your face. We live for the solace of shadows, the secrets the shadows keep.
I wonder what your face would look like in sunlight. One day.
Will we recognize each other? When one day is upon us, will we know each other?
What if you are only whole in the shadows?
Stay, I form again.
For a moment the fog lifts, the moonlight pretends it is sun it is day this is normal this is nothing.
You shift, roll over, tracing my brow. Our bodies part, our eyes meet.
I see her in yours.
She receives the sunlight and the truth of your words, the truth of the daylight.
The sheets are bunched and cold, the wires stiff. Cold where you left it. Twisted and plain in the void of you.
I stare into the sunlight, let the heat baptize me and burn you away.
In the shadow of moonlight you come again.
Stay. You do. You swear longer.
The release is longer and as ever bittersweet…cool lips pressed against my lids I am momentarily blinded.
I trace the place that I left on the surface of your skin, minute and temporary, it will fade before the taste of me leaves, cast out with the fluoride and the promises.
Stay. You shift, pretend not to hear. Tomorrow.
Whispered promises in the dark fade with the mist of morning.


2 thoughts on “stay

  1. I love love love how this reads like a poem, even though it is structured like a story. Your word choice is pristine, and the profound elements of your questions amaze me. As a writer with a literary blog, I find this so inspiring.

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