In for a Penny, In for a Pound

 You never met a bone you didn't want to bruise🦴⻣

In for a penny.

Bed. Sitting on the floor. My shoulders are between your legs. I caress them. Your hands are in my hair, on my shoulders, feeling, prodding, loving, marking. The light is dim, the sun has set, in no mood for dinner. Just you. Fingertips on my throat. You turn my head to yours, and we kiss. Your fingers are on my face, on my eyes, back to my hair. Touch it forever, please thank you. A slight drizzle, increasing. Full on rain. I'm on my feet, shuffling to the bed. We sit across from each other, cross-legged. You interlace my fingers with yours. You bring the palm of my hands to your cheek. God you're perfect. You're rubbing our hands together, you ask me about my day (long answers only). You stare into my eyes as I tell ...

The whole house is dimly lit. I enter the living room. You're tiptoeing around the sofa, with that awful mischievous grin on your lips. I hide behind another sofa. You ask me where I am. "Gotcha!" You say. You always do. I run to the kitchen and pick up a wooden spoon, and tap it on a pot, creating a beat. This impromptu percussion creates a melody in the air. "I'm waiting in the afterglow, for youuuu!" You shout. The mood is pervasive. I move with the beat, and you with the tune, I'm in the center, our eyes lock, and for a moment, I am a goner (as usual). 

I am enthralled. I am enchanted. Just let me adore you. How does it feel to be this adored? We eat in silence. You say you will eat anything I feed you. Anything? What if its poison? "Then I'll die." How fortunate, you only eat from the hand that feeds you. You had more than two hands didn't you? (I gave your name as my emergency contact) I'd never let you die alone. If it was poison, I would take it as well. "Why do you do this to yourself?"  I ain't proud of all the things I've done, but for you? I'd do it in a heartbeat. 

In for a pound. 

I see the darkness where you see the light. Your light is in your words. 'Words are connected to the concepts they describe, by something invisible, intangible- a mystical realm of meaning and ideas, emanating from a pure mental energy which only takes from where we ascribe an imperfect signifier.' In another life, you were a translator. Working in the towers of Babel, with silver and words. I know you were exceptional. I was definitely missing out. 

Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you. The rings you wear, your necklaces, your chains. You wear them so proudly. ("no  you can't wear this one, it was a gift from Felicia, one of my church friends"). All of them left their marks on you, you let them. I have seen the laughs you share with them, then the next second, all your attention is on me. The coded messages only you understand, the quiet whispers, the knowing smirks. All of them. The cha-ching at Stiwee, the FC at Ngata. Come on now. Where am I?

Restaurant, alone. Netflix. Young Sheldon. Cake and milkshake. Some vanilla ice-cream of course. Questions. Why, when? Is it the shame of being young and alone? Me? Shame is a social construct. We conceptualize shame. Therefore, as a sociopsychological construct resulting from interactions between cultural expectations and individual evaluation of the failure to meet those expectations, we get = shame. 

It's night, I am walking you home. Midnight.  The lamps in the street are glowing softly. Shadows are dancing at the edge. It is quiet. More than usual. Perhaps everything understands how somber it is. Tendrils of mist are drifting lazily in the air. It's almost ethereal. Are you going to say anything?

silence.

Anything at all?

silence.

----(he turns) and starts walking away...

Sing me a song darling, 

So I can remember the sound of your voice,

Soothing,

Tell me about the stars,

That if we can see the same ones, then we're not that far apart,

I am no astronomy buff

Down my cheeks the tears will dry, 

As I think about my life, 

And all the things I forgot to love,

 (or those that didn't love me back)

Quiet in my bed at night,

I'll wallow in my mental strife, 

And wonder what exists above,

And in the times of moral plight, 

I'll think of you in my mind, 

My one and only solace.

 

In for a penny, in for a pound.

My heart no longer calls the memory of your face. The place where my heart calls your name, no longer bears your flame.  I looked at you, and I didn't see the moon. We dissolved like the fleeting colours of spring. You were the sunflower in the field of tulips. The sunshine in a lonely winter morning. There's no excitement in my veins, and in my heart at the mention of your name. Even the sun-set and moon-rise at the same time, but that doesn't mean their love is eternal. Maybe in another lifetime, we can be brave enough to love each other... No, which one? When this one is over, please don't bring me back. 

I realized how mundane you were. You weren't special. I made you special. It is only in retrospect that I see that. People don't come to us being special. We make them. And once you see them otherwise, you can't unsee it. You do whatever you want, and I go by my mantra: "whatever." You got me misunderstood. You cling so much to them, you share so much, ofc I was the ruse. You have taught me that people aren't homes. They're rivers, always changing, forever flowing. They will disappear with everything you put INSIDE them. 

I don't like how you painted me. Now they're calling me a small god, who should be worshipped. A patient suffering from superiority complex. Now all of you are kings and queens of irritation. That you should beware. If you breathe too loud near me, I'll be visibly irked. See what you have turned me into? Remember I am the muse of discord, I am a master manipulator, I leave behind a trail of unresolved tensions and fractured emotions. (Poco-loco). 

I'll be on my bed, dreaming of Saturn.  Baby yoouuu have been rejected. Go back, no more pretending bye. Save your fucks for something magical. 

A.S.