Sunday, June 8, 2008

MBT from 6.11.7

Monday, June 11, 2007

From the past to the present

She is out there somewhere. Collected cobwebs and floating shadows of the others still haunt me, but I have healed enough to stand. Years of collected darkness still colors my vision. The warmth of her laughter calls me, while the gleaming edge of minds lays waste to the dullards that mill about her feet. Her glance is challenging and dismissive, seeing more in me than I care to admit. I am lost amidst cardboard cutouts pretending to be worthwhile, interesting people. In the corner of my eye, she dances. Her scent is a blossom striding through the wind. A taste of her will on tempt my lips. With the heat of my hand she vanishes. My breath stolen, fallen to the ground, the hem of her skirt brushes my trembling hand. She steals into my mind and rearranges it as she pleases. I close my eyes to feel her heat on my face. Her bare feet shuffle softly on the floor with a sound like tiny golden bells. The musk in the hollow of her throat lifts me and she cradles my head in her lap. Her comtempt corrodes all my well-formed bullshit, and her slap is both a welcome and a warning. She sits with her feet folded under her, shuffling my mind like a deck of cards. Laughing, she traces the lines in my face as if it were the map to some undiscovered paradise. She scatters me around the room and slips away, a ray of light in the clouds. The lines from her nails sting, but my tears will not find her.

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