Friday, January 29, 2010

she (part I)

13 Jan
drank, yet, was awfully sober; she kept her smile in place, (only if they knew this is the secret methodology of micro-managing her tears) then she dreamt a lil' dream of melons and cigarettes, scissors and happiness, coffee and yogurt, running and ...

... woke up from it all. mindful of the gin the tequila the beer the mess the clothes the stranger in bed who she couldn't recognize in the mirror
at first glance. "honey it's time to go.." began the silent monologue. awesome, she thought, knowing the routine too well. far too well by heart, she picked up the pieces after herself and left. she tried to pick up. or did she..

14 Jan
danced, with a fever. she wasn't ill; it was the light-headedness. she couldn't feel her feet, how could she? in that state of delirium, even a twisted ankle would be neglected. her partner's scorching touch had her anesthetized, and induced euphoria...

...her waist, the small of her back, and the under-curve of left breast where his finger last glided past, now all bore his brand- the subtly potent scent. his aftershave? perhaps, it was just the soap. vertigo, in the name of love, would it last, she wondered.

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