Smothered in blue

On a whim, I lean over to kiss you. Senseless, confused, I kiss you. Fear of rejection consumes me, but I do not want our lips to part. Don't move. Just kiss me. Just kiss me, hold me. You don't even need to love me. Just kiss me. 
 
"Oi fatty. What are you day dreaming about?"
 
Ah. Fatty. A name amongst names.
 
"I said. Fatty, what the hell are you day dreaming about?!"
 
He was getting a little more aggressive now. Prodding me in the shoulder leaving a piercing pin-point dot of pain. He continued to jeer, gaining the attention of his hoodlum friends, all of them grouping together. Surrounded, I close my eyes, each breath - inhale, exhale - rotating in the orchestra my mind. 
 
I twitch in my seat, as I feel a thud. Then another. And another. Then several thuds. Each coming at me from different directions, each varying in strength. Each filled with the same malicious hate. 
 
Fatty. Shithead. Bastard. Fag. 
 
Baby. Honey. Sugar. My love. 
 
I lull away from reality; run to my dreams with you. The flow of hate-filled insults reform to a stream of endearment. Each punch a wandering touch. Each beating to a heated embrace. Like this. If I dream of you like this, I can withstand it. If you love me, then I can withstand it.  
 
A kick in the stomach tugs me from my dream world. And on the floor, on that cold floor, I lay. The blood surges upward, forcing up any food, pulling any sense I have left with it. I can no longer differentiate between tears and blood as my body lurches forward, then is pulled back. My face throbs. Like a bludgeoned blueberry, I sway back and forth, only catching a breath between each bat. I close my eyes - cannot open them rather - and take deep breaths. Each one bubbling, stirring for air, as I feel myself drifting in and out of consciousness.  
 
I - try to - open my eyes, but find them sealed shut. The congealed blood has formed blackberry clusters on my eyelashes. The crevices of my lips and nostrils are layered with a dry bloody crust,  crackling at each movement I attempt to make. Morning has come, uninvited, once again.
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Astral_Tides's picture

Wow! What a truly powerful

Wow!

What a truly powerful word experience.

You have the ability to pluck the reader from where they sit, and fall into your story as if it were them experiencing it first hand.

I really found this painfully beautiful.

Amazing talent you posess and create from.


"The stars awaken a certain reverence, because though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence." R.W.E.

 


 

Sansimi's picture

Thank you so much for your

Thank you so much for your words, they are incredibly encouraging. It is comments like these that remind me of the beauty of writing and what a loss it would be to stop.

SSmoothie's picture

so my dear how clever you

so my dear how clever you have spun your invitation to pleasure and pain. this is very clever. very real and one can only hope reading it that is is an exaggerated fiction. cruelty is everywhere. you dont even need to look to find it. but, so is beauty and we need to recognise it. this is a powerful work. you drew me in. congratulations on your excellent seqway into homophobia/ intollerance and inequality in such a shallow layer of the world and also the intollerable cruelty of undeserved love. brilliant!


Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS    

"Well, it's life SIMS, but not as we know it" - ¡$&am

Sansimi's picture

Thank you so much for your

Thank you so much for your kind words. Rummaging through my old writing book I wasn't quite sure of what I was feeling at the time but all I knew was that I was in a bad place, looking for love I did not think I deserved. Only now have I returned to my writing after almost a year so it is encouraging to read these comments 

nightlight1220's picture

The whole thing brought back

The whole thing brought back a party I went to in highschool. This girl walked in with a black eye...(and oh please, not to be confused withe a 'black guy'), and was getting all this attention from everyone. By the end of the bathroom session (most of us pretty well wasted), she was sucked into a gossippy few who had her believing "it's a sign he really likes you".... 

 

me and my friends may have been high... but never that high... lmao.


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

nightlight1220's picture

A reverberating "stolen kiss"

A reverberating "stolen kiss" can turn out to be a big mouthful of rancid spit and nothing else. Maybe save your kisses for royal invitation only. 

...


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "