It is the hour of silence. The night is a velvet hoodie, but there's also the premonition of light. That it will come again, and that it won't be too long.
Love is just a wish. It only exists in my head (but the touch still pricks my skin from when I was a believer). I often mock it, but when I dare to be honest, I want it; the romantic kind, the one that saves and damns.
Monica's teeth looked like a wind-worn fence. I've always liked crooked teeth. Her breath on my face was faintly perfume-y. And she could cause permanent damage to my inner organs with her thighs.
Right now I think that I'll always remember the moonlit walk along the beach. When we escaped, drove north after she fought with her husband, the editor, said she was leaving him.
But soon I'll think, what the hell was I thinking.
In the meantime, daddy is here, and he's having loud sex with this hippie-chick (not much older than me) that we met at a brunch spot in Topanga Canyon.
Image by simen johan
very intriguing and interesting story. i really enjoyed the way you described things. you're really talented. i hope you can spare me some tips on being a good writer like you :)
ReplyDeletegosh, i love this.
ReplyDeletecrooked teeth mean character and intrigue.
I am so sorry for what happened with Monica. Love- the romantic kind- will happen for you eventually. Don't give up.
ReplyDeleteSophia
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there's some sort of strange melancholy that's in this rain we've been having lately, and you're capturing it beautifully without mentioning it at all. your writing is incredible and keeps getting stuck in my head and haunting me. i don't know if you intend to do that or not, but you do. :D
ReplyDeletei really wish it would stop raining. not that i don't like the rain, but there's something uncanny about it all this time. or maybe it's me? fuck, who knows?
xx x
Escape is a powerful thing. One that can determine who we wish to be but are not always allowed to. I love the way you write.
ReplyDelete