Early morning anxiety attacks and persistent phases of 3 AM paranoia inspire my inhibitions, bask my bleak existence in something new and render my eyes useless. I only see black as I weightlessly descend deeper into the nothing I use to take pills to avoid. This comfortable, powerful nothing. I want it.
She carried no designer handbag and wore no lipstick. Freckles trickled from her collar bone to her cleavage, soft and young below the shadow cast from a light above the door frame she stood under. Her blue eyes gazed into mine as if she were hesitant, or even angry at herself for asking me to walk her back to her dorm room. She bit her lower lip, not to be seductive, but because the slight pain made her chest tingle and her resistance weak. She drew two fingers to the strands of long brown hair that caressed the top of her breasts above the crest of her light blue tank top and breathed in deep.
My bloodshot eyes glared into hers from the bed, against the far left wall and below an open window letting in the 3.AM desert breeze. I was leaning against the side of the mattress; to my left was her night stand with an unplugged lamp resting on the white wood, and to my right were her closed closet doors. There was twenty feet of dorm room carpet between us, yet I could feel the warmth from the inside of her thighs.
Pulse.
We both knew the game we were playing.
Her lips parted slightly.
” We-”
” Come here,” I said sharply. She stared back and inhaled raggedly.
High off tequila shots, guilt and coke. I still can’t see, but now the dark is replaced with smoke.
Her blue jeans, her unforgiving blue jeans, creased at her navel as she took two slow steps toward me. Then another, all the while keeping those eyes steady and those gentle hands at her side. Her chest and upper stomach slightly trembled with each breath she took.
I grabbed the shot glass on the nightstand and threw the tepid tequila into the back of my throat. It burnt as it seeped down and collided like a train wreck with my heart; my pounding, solicitous heart, lodged in the alcohol’s way, violently beating. Desperately. I too took a deep breath.
” We can’t do this,” she whispered from three steps away from me. There were goosebumps on her arms as they hung by her side. I could feel the warmth so intensely now. It radiated into my fingertips and settled in my pockets. I stood up and took a step towards her until warm became hot- until I could just feel her against me. She was three inches shorter than I, and as we stood she stared into chest above the brim of my white beater. She inhaled through her nose, closed her eyes and leaned her forehead toward my chest. I brought a hand to her hip and pulled her against me.
Beat.
We both knew the game we were playing.
I can faintly feel a voice whispering words of wisdom into my numb ear drums. You’re 19. You’re crazy. Enjoy it, and exist inside this until your twentieth year comes.
I brought my forefinger to her chin and caught her eyes once more. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and her lips parted. Her hip trembled slightly in my hand as she leaned against my grey sweatpants. Her heat against me as she gazed into my eyes. Pleading. Writhing.
Breath.
” Tell me you don’t want it then,” I whispered. She looked down and brought her finger tips to my lower back and slipped them underneath my white beater. They were light and warm.
I moved my finger to the strand of hair on her chest, gently directed it behind her neck and kissed a freckle above her collarbone. Her hand clutched my back as my lips moved to the strap of her tank top. Her other hand found the front of my beater as she pulled back from me. Staring into her, I pulled off the cotton, and put my arms around her hips as she jumped and twisted her legs around mine. As one we turned and landed on the bed. And we found the places we weren’t supposed to be.
Pulse. Beat. Breath. Heat.
We both knew the game we were playing.
5 hours later however I’m still awake. A heart thumps in my chest like the beat of a native drum chant. And two eyes, bloodshot and beat, have not blinked since the sun rose over the windowsill. For a moment I was out of the hole, able to watch the sky intimately transcend from purple to a shade of blue as radiant as the eyes of the naked girl beside me- the horizon as soft and pink.
How, if the nights pass by as slowly as this one has, can the years fly by so fast? Because sixteen seems like yesterday, but yesterday seems like it’s taken sixteen years to become today.
Filed under: Samples
