The eclipse was hanging. Tied to a string, tied to the black ceiling. Hanging with the racing fog marooned over San Francisco. I was hanging with the eclipse. My skin got dewy and I blinked back some. Coming back to my body, I felt shame for not hanging in his atmosphere. But have I ever? Does he even noticed that I like playing with the stars - or can I notice him? Over the bridge, we sit in terse silence. He asked knowingly, "do you have a withhold for me?" I replied, "yes." Later, I laid across the bed to watch him undress for the last time. His skin was cold under the duvet. His body vibrated, from cold, from anticipation, I'm not sure. But as he turned his face to me, I felt a projected sadness for him. But I had pushed that sadness down, deep. I don't truly anticipate true sadness from him. I gave him my withhold, that I am wanting something More, something that he can't provide. I wanted to take away our name Lovers, and the chapter holding our lovership came to a close. He told me that he was sad. He told me that he mourned our sexual relationship. I tried to feel him, the mourning, the disappointment, and especially the jealousy that he has for my future love. But I couldn't feel anything that originated from Me.
She assured me that my cervix bleeding can be normal during a pap smear. Her attempt at reassurance made me glance down, and my head spun at the sight of all that red.
Joni Mitchell's River
It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby cry
He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby say goodbye
It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
Her voice was thick with mourning. She asked a disheartening question. I had no answers.
You know where I am?
I am in the indigo particles of the rainbow.
Trembling, I colored cautiously on his canvas. Then waited.
Waited.
Still waiting.
That excitement of back and forth, giddy whirlwind of school childish love - crushes - object of affection (or obsession), you know... - has simmered to pure anxiety.
I feel silly, foolish.
That's the problem with running around with your heart cupped in your hands, palms up. It's bound to get dropped, mushed, stabbed, kicked, and other excursions of heart pain.
They never said that vulnerability is a pretty sight.
But it's pretty damn beautiful.
We leapt away from the breaking glass. Later I tiptoed through the shards.
One morning, she readied for a day of Christmas shopping. Upon her friend Michael's arrival for the outing, she quickened her pace: hair-brushing, lotion rubbing, mint in mouth, socks before shoes. Hey, she's a girl. They got in Michael's car, drove to the spirits store, parked the car, found the bottle of liqueur Michael was eyeing for his dad, purchased it, got back in the car, drove to the annual crafts fair in the South of Market area, parked. Inside the exhibition center, she was in awe of the artistry and creativity of the work on display. They spoke to different places of her, leapt out at her even. She never thought she'd have the experience of art leaping out at her... Suddenly she felt a lurch in her stomach and her head spins. I must not be taking very good care of myself, she thought. She wondered if sitting down and getting a bite to eat would help with the dizzying sensations. She spoke aloud, almost unconsciously, "I need to feel my feet." Michael, who was preoccupied with his Christmas list, shot her a look of confusion. "That's a weird thing to say, even coming from you," he observed. His comment stopped her dead in her tracks. The mint she ate that morning wasn't MINTY. Story to be continued...
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