Two deep breaths and the ocean air penetrates my lungs. I feel myself fall into the empty space of a thousand murmurs of familiar voices. Closing my eyes trying to see the world, and all I see is the clarity of darkness. Your touch glides across my skin so lightly as if you fear breaking me. Stiff upon the sand, the pull of silk over my feet brings a rush of cold. My eyes wide in disbelief, my mind trembling in wonder and my body refusing to shiver, I reprimand the birth of my tears. Lies and kisses whipped across my cheeks: your body is so heavy and I stop breathing. I bite my lips to muffle the whimpers that try to fight through my blood stained teeth. The pain remains as a backdrop to my life, and I bear the thrusts. The sand stained pink beneath me, you leave with a kiss and a whisper. Two deep breaths and the tears trickle onto my pale stricken lips.
Brushing his hand against my thigh, my skin wanted to burst in resentment with blood and death. My face challenges the stillness and colour of a porcelain doll: rosy cheeks made of Estee Lauder and curls burned into place. My skirt inching up my legs and those red pumps thrown across the room by an invisible lust, can you push me harder? With no more left to bleed out from me, I sit in judgement: squeeze to test firmness, examine my colour, and sniff out the scent of ripeness. Shallow breaths, rolled eyes, and sweat trickled bodies: finished? My due feels cold, strapped between my thigh and garter. No love. Can you let me have my cigarette alone?
I twirl in front of a mirror as the fabric flies through the air without precision or thought. The colour compliments my skin. Will he like that? There is no ‘he‘, but more of ‘they‘. Will they like this? Cold shivers run across my skin, and memories of a child’s past try to slit my throat. The mirror mocks me and screams for a beauty beyond botox. The dress dances in place as music overflows the small boutique and my mind blanks into an abyss. Slips of fabric continue to tease me as my shrill silence splits the atmosphere. Touch after touch crashes about my thoughts and my eyes widen in fear. Petty smiles and a falsified gasp of desire: “Excuse me, can I buy this?”
Created: Jul 25, 2010Document Media