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Sleepsghostlight wrote
on December 24th, 2009 at 01:31 pm
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Like a mnemonic I conjure up that image in my head. Those eyes looking at me with a tenderness I've never seen in them, with that unspoken vulnerability of someone without barriers. My hand cradles her head from the side, thumb on cheek, and her hair falls over my fingers. It crawls out from my brain like a spider's nest in the spring, skittering over the fronds of my nervous system with a million uncountable legs. The mother spider, couched in web, watching the swarm dissipate over the meadow.

I'm addicted to this; to desiring. I don't know if it's simply because it's a marked departure from the emotional numbness I retreated to in order to survive, or simply because I've finally unshackled the plague cart from a stallion.

She asks me what I think about while writing and I tell her "love and heartbreak". She apologises. She doesn't understand that you can only have your heart broken if you're willing to put it under the hammer, and that courage is worth more than anything else in life. If she breaks my heart it's because I chose to let her. The shards flicker across my skin, tickling it into anticipation and heating it as if from a forge. My breath, leaden with desire.

Each moment of denial a turn on the handle, coiling the spring tighter. I wonder if she will even be the one holding the box when the lid bursts open.

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