Matt Reverie
06-05-2011, 08:35 PM
“Let’s stop pretending” she whispered as I lay snoring. Sally looked at my wide-open mouth and the knot in her stomach got a little tighter. She tensed her neck and tried very hard to remember what exactly attracted her to me in the first place as she got lost in a hazy stream of thoughts. My gun on the night stand was bathing in a small trickle of moonlight that slid along the crack between the curtains. She had thought about killing me many times before but didn’t because it would be such a bloody mess; and frankly she didn’t care enough anymore to go through all of that.
She got lost thinking about beds and thought of her parents’ bed. A bed is so much more than a forced union of wooden planks with a mattress thrown in it. It’s a symbolic space representing the most intimate and most vulnerable bond two people can have. When you’re sharing a bed with someone, the implied message you’re sending is: “because of my love for and trust in you I am willing to surrender myself to you without any reservations; I am willing to lay next to you while being unconscious , completely vulnerable.” Or at least that is what it should imply. But Sally and I never really implied that to one another I guess. Just because I was sticking my one shot fun gun into her fuzz box, didn’t mean I was willing to take off my “toothpaste-smile/out-of-bed-cool/laidback-H&M/ unrecognized-genius/ Power-of-Now” mask…
“Words, words, words…”, some fictional English fag once said. He had words aplenty to express what he felt and, my god, did he feel some things. But between Sally and me, too many things were left unsaid; too many things left unfelt too. Whatever we felt, we pushed it away into some dark, dusty corner of our mind. But I wish I had told her how much I adored her awesome smile - now lay down your Iphone, mother****er, no need to call the cliché police- I wish I’d told her how much I adored her smile because she was truly something special. I have yet to see anyone commit to a smile like she did. She would fearlessly throw her head into her neck with her mouth hanging wide open (like the LOL emoticon) as her heavenly hair waved back and her whole body trembled, and she would still make it look so feminine, so sexy. She would look like a goddess up at Olympos, laughing at one of Zeus’ wisecracks when she was radiating all that raw and pure energy. And the sound which accompanied that extraordinary sight was pure magic. Well, to the dull of mind it might have sounded like the high pitched squealing of a pig when it’s being turned into a juicy hot dog but to me it was like the last song on Black Keys’ Brothers… A bit more joyous though. It would be a string quartet version and Dan would sing it like his woman had just given birth to his beautiful baby daughter. I wish I had told her how much I loved waking up next to her and staring into her sleepy eyes and smelling her bed head while she made a joke about how extremely loud I had been snoring that particular night. How she would chuckle and rub her damp nose against mine and breathe her apologies on my lips and make my belly turn into liquid jelly. And how she would scratch and bite me filled with untamable desire, and later lick my wounds filled with cheek-pinching sorrow…
We don’t speak that much anymore and when we do, it’s about things that don’t really matter all that much: the weather, people we couldn’t care less about and obscure indie bands. I used to get this throb in my throat whenever I thought about her but I have no feeling for her now. There’s nothing in this good old heart of mine. Along the way this leaden ball of soul-scraping agony faded into a vast sea of emptiness.
But it all went by so fast. From the moment I kissed her with my bloody and swollen lip (that’s another story) until the moment it fell apart. We both marched down the rundown stairs of my ****ty apartment. She had tears rolling down her cheeks; I bit my lip and pushed mine away. I opened the door for her and she walked out to grab her bike, then looked at me. “One last kiss farewell”, I thought I’d put it out there. “You think that’s a good idea?” “You have to give me something to remember you by”, I smiled and my heart broke on the spot. We kissed and I was secretly hoping she was hurting every bit as much as I was. I wanted her to feel the same gut-wrenching pain I felt. We tensed our lips and I bit down on her tongue hoping it would last forever. It all seemed to last no longer than those fifteen minutes you wait in a nearly abandoned train station when you’ve missed your train and you don’t want to sit around for an whole hour until the next one comes, so you take the one that stops nearest to where you need to be. Maybe that’s what we were to each other: a train you didn’t mean to catch but through a crazy twist of fate did. Well, at least you’re moving, the passing view isn’t that bad and you don’t have to sit in that arctic station all by yourself looking at your boring shoes. You enjoy it while it lasts and get out at the stop nearest to your destination. You walk down the stairs and your stomach fills up with a faint and numbing feeling which reminds you of how happy you used to be as a kid; and then you forget all about it like it was a pleasant but mediocre dream that woke you up in the middle of the night... Well, I enjoyed talking to you but my *** is really starting to hurt… This park has got some lousy benches… I have been up all night drinking, so I expected my *** to be comfortably numb… Guess not.”
He smiles, slowly rises and walks away. An old man coughs as the January sun is struggling against shy clouds. An overly enthusiastic kid wants a lollipop and preferably an Ipad. Stern-faced girls are looking at their reflection in shop windows as they walk by and a male section of the Holy Church of Justin Bieber is doing the same. The ducks on the frozen lake wiggle and would murder for a slice of bread while a handsome young man and pretty young woman are walking towards them. Their hopes and dreams hidden behind a kiss and a smile. They hug, they leave and morning fades into noon.
She got lost thinking about beds and thought of her parents’ bed. A bed is so much more than a forced union of wooden planks with a mattress thrown in it. It’s a symbolic space representing the most intimate and most vulnerable bond two people can have. When you’re sharing a bed with someone, the implied message you’re sending is: “because of my love for and trust in you I am willing to surrender myself to you without any reservations; I am willing to lay next to you while being unconscious , completely vulnerable.” Or at least that is what it should imply. But Sally and I never really implied that to one another I guess. Just because I was sticking my one shot fun gun into her fuzz box, didn’t mean I was willing to take off my “toothpaste-smile/out-of-bed-cool/laidback-H&M/ unrecognized-genius/ Power-of-Now” mask…
“Words, words, words…”, some fictional English fag once said. He had words aplenty to express what he felt and, my god, did he feel some things. But between Sally and me, too many things were left unsaid; too many things left unfelt too. Whatever we felt, we pushed it away into some dark, dusty corner of our mind. But I wish I had told her how much I adored her awesome smile - now lay down your Iphone, mother****er, no need to call the cliché police- I wish I’d told her how much I adored her smile because she was truly something special. I have yet to see anyone commit to a smile like she did. She would fearlessly throw her head into her neck with her mouth hanging wide open (like the LOL emoticon) as her heavenly hair waved back and her whole body trembled, and she would still make it look so feminine, so sexy. She would look like a goddess up at Olympos, laughing at one of Zeus’ wisecracks when she was radiating all that raw and pure energy. And the sound which accompanied that extraordinary sight was pure magic. Well, to the dull of mind it might have sounded like the high pitched squealing of a pig when it’s being turned into a juicy hot dog but to me it was like the last song on Black Keys’ Brothers… A bit more joyous though. It would be a string quartet version and Dan would sing it like his woman had just given birth to his beautiful baby daughter. I wish I had told her how much I loved waking up next to her and staring into her sleepy eyes and smelling her bed head while she made a joke about how extremely loud I had been snoring that particular night. How she would chuckle and rub her damp nose against mine and breathe her apologies on my lips and make my belly turn into liquid jelly. And how she would scratch and bite me filled with untamable desire, and later lick my wounds filled with cheek-pinching sorrow…
We don’t speak that much anymore and when we do, it’s about things that don’t really matter all that much: the weather, people we couldn’t care less about and obscure indie bands. I used to get this throb in my throat whenever I thought about her but I have no feeling for her now. There’s nothing in this good old heart of mine. Along the way this leaden ball of soul-scraping agony faded into a vast sea of emptiness.
But it all went by so fast. From the moment I kissed her with my bloody and swollen lip (that’s another story) until the moment it fell apart. We both marched down the rundown stairs of my ****ty apartment. She had tears rolling down her cheeks; I bit my lip and pushed mine away. I opened the door for her and she walked out to grab her bike, then looked at me. “One last kiss farewell”, I thought I’d put it out there. “You think that’s a good idea?” “You have to give me something to remember you by”, I smiled and my heart broke on the spot. We kissed and I was secretly hoping she was hurting every bit as much as I was. I wanted her to feel the same gut-wrenching pain I felt. We tensed our lips and I bit down on her tongue hoping it would last forever. It all seemed to last no longer than those fifteen minutes you wait in a nearly abandoned train station when you’ve missed your train and you don’t want to sit around for an whole hour until the next one comes, so you take the one that stops nearest to where you need to be. Maybe that’s what we were to each other: a train you didn’t mean to catch but through a crazy twist of fate did. Well, at least you’re moving, the passing view isn’t that bad and you don’t have to sit in that arctic station all by yourself looking at your boring shoes. You enjoy it while it lasts and get out at the stop nearest to your destination. You walk down the stairs and your stomach fills up with a faint and numbing feeling which reminds you of how happy you used to be as a kid; and then you forget all about it like it was a pleasant but mediocre dream that woke you up in the middle of the night... Well, I enjoyed talking to you but my *** is really starting to hurt… This park has got some lousy benches… I have been up all night drinking, so I expected my *** to be comfortably numb… Guess not.”
He smiles, slowly rises and walks away. An old man coughs as the January sun is struggling against shy clouds. An overly enthusiastic kid wants a lollipop and preferably an Ipad. Stern-faced girls are looking at their reflection in shop windows as they walk by and a male section of the Holy Church of Justin Bieber is doing the same. The ducks on the frozen lake wiggle and would murder for a slice of bread while a handsome young man and pretty young woman are walking towards them. Their hopes and dreams hidden behind a kiss and a smile. They hug, they leave and morning fades into noon.