The spry boy, charm hiding the fact that he’s more scared than you are, dares to hold your hand. Outside, you begin to question if you are not a dirty secret. You’re still not sure. But for the first time you are the only person to exist. He’s smarter than you– charismatic, youthful and jaded. With cynicism fueled by ideals, freedom is a long way away, far beyond the incomprehensible grief of surrender.
Spread over blue, with your numbing body, you enjoy each other. You try to look at yourself in the narrow, dark eyes, before realizing that you can only see him. Smart, lean, hungry, hopeful, and… not all there, with you. You wonder if the same is true reversedly, reciprocally. Sharp eyes begin to sparkle and your body grows cold, dying before the start.
At night your belly frenzies. You later learn that his does as well. Both of you seared by numbness, he begins to refuse. He sees the burn wounds disfiguring your psyche. They’re not real, but you both know what they mean. You were warned. Your mother warned you. She warned you that he would be hurt, angry with you for leaving. For being a good girl. For doing as ladies do. You are heartbroken and free of regrets.
For a few moments, there’s warm lighting, framed artwork, dessert, and noise. He won’t hold your hand, but he offers you his wine. The voices of the city create a cacophony of nerves. You are no longer able to hear each other. In the noise you both drown, separate and together.
In the daylight, you feel it. For the first time. Kindness leaving a stain on your mouth. Lips tainted with all the goodness of a beast that no longer understands you. By a boy rendered false with fear. A man turned boy, fragmented, splitting into pieces and pulling away.
For the first time, you do not want to exorcize. It’s a lot for you still. Each sensation undoes you a little more. And yet there is no ecstasy greater than the slow death of who you once were.
You are peeled back, and left in the cold.
What’s left is you. And that is when you find it.
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