Windows open. White as snow laced curtains blowing. The draft picks up, rushes through my bedroom, grazes past my nipples, they stir awake. You glide in, beautiful as ever. Your silhouette glowing with the exquisite aspect of a saint's halo. Smile at me, but more with your cheeks than your mouth. Raise your hand to me and wave.
Notice the naked form lying nonchalantly on the bed in front of you. The hand lowers. The sky blue eyes turn an ominous scarlet. The brilliant set of dazzling, marble teeth mould themselves into acicular fangs. You cock your head, unblinking, like a rabid dog. "Tonight?" You hiss, hovering above the burgundy carpet floor. I don't dignify your question with a reply. Awkwardly heave myself off the Queen sized bed, slip a muslin dress over my pale, slim body. Chagrin. Shake my head. Not tonight.
You raise your hand to me again, only this time holding your palm out, line-side-up, I can see your heart line, your life line. "Come with me." I know where you mean. I know exactly there. I've "ummed" and "ahhed" about going there many times. Ultimately, I've decided against it. Instead, I take that callous hand, and lead you to a petite table.
The table is lavished with a baby pink cloth. On top of that is a lace, snow white cloth, patterned with ugly flowers. Pots of the same white lay dormant on the table, decorated with orange and red lilies. I sit you down on a chair, you look at me with lilac eyes uneasily. Your brows knit together as I walk around the table and perch myself opposite you, my expression wearing an intangible smile.
I prepare the tea. I don't offer you sugar. I know as well as anybody that you are sweet enough.
Your eyes use their best efforts to not glance down at my erect, pink nipples. You want it, but I want tea, and for once, tonight is going to be about what I want. I feel your bare foot beneath the table fidget against mine. I will resist this temptation. I'll resist what every fibre of my being is telling me to do. Telling me to rip off the muslin and sweeping the table free of crockery, bending over and telling you I'm sorry and let you magnificent celestial hands smite upon my arse and make them as red as the burning flames of h- no don't put your hand there, you'll spill the tea.
As soon as I move your hand away, you transform into a supernatural rage monster. Your claws spring from your finger tips and you flip the table over, so some tea scalds my thigh. You're 8 ft in height now. Towering over my exiguous form, you stalk towards me, your eyes not moving even for a second from their target.
The monster that possesses you has me against the wall, and plans on carrying me to bed. The beautiful phantom that I love has vanished, and is replaced with a sinister creature of a sort. It kisses me, drains me of consciousness. I wake up in the bed, legs aching, bruises in the shape of finger prints up my pale thighs, my posterior aches, there's blood on the sheets so red it could have been arterial blood, deep scratches in your back, the roots of my hair scream in agony, underneath your first two fingernails is stained scarlet, too. But you're back in your lovable form, sat on the bed, head in hands. A great despair swarms me. I reach for you, to tell you it's okay, that I'm not really that hurt, but you cast me aside.
You look at me with bloodshot eyes, I tell you I don't remember much of what happened, you nod, say that's good and tell me to wait in bed until you return. We both know I do that every night anyway. You venture down the stairs, gliding with ease above the maroon, wooden floorboards. I hear the clinging of pots, a table being pulled upright, of you using your metaphysical powers for good, for once.
You don't come back up. I stay on the bed for hours, maybe even days, waiting for your return. I am sore. I am so, so sore. My hair hasn't been brushed out of fear of losing the traces of your finger prints on it. It must have been a month by now. I rise from the bed, carrying my bony body towards the table where we both sat for tea. I stare at the sugar. I stare at the whiteness. I contemplate the process of putting sugar into tea, making the sugar brown and disappear, yet making the tea taste better, sweeter, give it more flavour. You tidied before you left. The cups are clean now. Two places are still set nonetheless.
I walk to the window where you used to enter. I hope to see the beautiful ghostly form that picked me up with a tenderness so pure. I don't. I just see stars in the night sky. Disappointed and bruised inside, I walk away with my head hanging. Fireworks boom in the sky. I wonder what it would be like to go outside and experience them. I can't step outside now you have tainted me. I should fade to dust. Would it matter now? If I faded away? Would you miss me? Will you know I'm gone?
There isn't much point now, if I cannot experience the fresh air against my skin anymore. I run to the front door. I take my last breath of air. I step outside. I feel the cells of my skin peel away one by one as I disintegrate into dust.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know it's been months since I've been back my darling. I hope you are still waiting in bed for me. See, I've been doing some thinking and I'm ready to get rid of the demon inside now. I'm ready to be an angel now. I know I treated you badly and I shouldn't have stormed out like that. But I'm coming back for you now.
Walking up to your home, I stare at the architecture of the building. It reminds me of you in its beauty and confidence. I miss your smile.
I fly up to your window. It is still open. I slide in and notice the tea set hasn't moved an inch since the last time I've been. The air of the room has a stillness about it. The ambience of this house is sombre now. Oh, how I long to hear your laugh again! But where are you? The bed is unmade, that is unlike you.
I stare at your sheets that are usually blistering white. They are a crimson red. Blood stains. That was my fault. You haven't washed the bedsheets in months?
Stagger down the stairs, I feel queasy now. I hate to think I caused all that blood...
Your front door is open. The porch door is not.
Inside the porch, your lovely muslin dress. The one your nipples poked out behind. The one that made your pale skin look sun kissed. The ends of that too are blood stained.
Beneath the dress is dust. It is dust with your smell, your aura. I pick it up and let it drop through the gaps in my fingers. A wave of your memories hit me.
It is midnight. I have watched you for months. You are so beautiful. The realms of hell are dark and scorching, but you are my light, you are the coolness on my blistered and burned skin. I tap on your window.
You open it and smile and blush at my compliments. Reluctantly, you let me in. As I glide in, I notice your tea table and comment I'll have two sugars, please. Laughing, you pour me a cup. I look around your girly room. Teddy bears lie all over the floor and on the cupboards, pictures of butterflies on the walls, doves hover over your bed, your bed has magnificent bed posts.
We sit and talk over tea all night. You are so lonely, but darling so am I. You have no idea how lonely it gets down there. You offer me to stay the night, and I accept, albeit a bit nervous about sleeping next to the woman I have protected and watched over for the past 10 years.
In bed you curl up into my chest. You tell me I am warm but you like it. I laugh and wrap my arms around you. Not even Lucifer could separate us now.
Though this is a happy memory, probably the best moment of my pathetic life, I find myself crying. Before I have time to wipe my tears, another memory hits me.
You are alone in your bedroom. A devil comes, like me, but bigger, and darker. Bright fire burns around his figure. He ignites your room and frightens your sleeping persona. He tells you I am a devil like him, and if you decide to continue your relations with me you will return to the dust from which you came. You are convinced it is a bad dream and smoke a cigarette at your tea table.
I did not know this. I should have known this.
You are gone. You are in this dust now. It is my fault for pushing you into this, but you wanted it too, didn't you?
Absolute rage consumes me. Instead of turning into my demon form, I feel an excruciating sensation in my shoulder blades. I'm screaming in pain- pain in my shoulders, and in losing you. Suddenly, huge white wings shoot out of my back, causing blood to come from their bases. I am an angel?
Confused I move the wings. I stare at them through frantic tears. Come back to me, my love. I stare down at the dust. I pick more up in my hands. Then another hand is placed on top of mine.
It is your hand. You have blue wings. We are kissing so hard now. There's no time for apologies or excuses or explanations. You are mine now, and I am yours, forever more.
Notice the naked form lying nonchalantly on the bed in front of you. The hand lowers. The sky blue eyes turn an ominous scarlet. The brilliant set of dazzling, marble teeth mould themselves into acicular fangs. You cock your head, unblinking, like a rabid dog. "Tonight?" You hiss, hovering above the burgundy carpet floor. I don't dignify your question with a reply. Awkwardly heave myself off the Queen sized bed, slip a muslin dress over my pale, slim body. Chagrin. Shake my head. Not tonight.
You raise your hand to me again, only this time holding your palm out, line-side-up, I can see your heart line, your life line. "Come with me." I know where you mean. I know exactly there. I've "ummed" and "ahhed" about going there many times. Ultimately, I've decided against it. Instead, I take that callous hand, and lead you to a petite table.
The table is lavished with a baby pink cloth. On top of that is a lace, snow white cloth, patterned with ugly flowers. Pots of the same white lay dormant on the table, decorated with orange and red lilies. I sit you down on a chair, you look at me with lilac eyes uneasily. Your brows knit together as I walk around the table and perch myself opposite you, my expression wearing an intangible smile.
I prepare the tea. I don't offer you sugar. I know as well as anybody that you are sweet enough.
Your eyes use their best efforts to not glance down at my erect, pink nipples. You want it, but I want tea, and for once, tonight is going to be about what I want. I feel your bare foot beneath the table fidget against mine. I will resist this temptation. I'll resist what every fibre of my being is telling me to do. Telling me to rip off the muslin and sweeping the table free of crockery, bending over and telling you I'm sorry and let you magnificent celestial hands smite upon my arse and make them as red as the burning flames of h- no don't put your hand there, you'll spill the tea.
As soon as I move your hand away, you transform into a supernatural rage monster. Your claws spring from your finger tips and you flip the table over, so some tea scalds my thigh. You're 8 ft in height now. Towering over my exiguous form, you stalk towards me, your eyes not moving even for a second from their target.
The monster that possesses you has me against the wall, and plans on carrying me to bed. The beautiful phantom that I love has vanished, and is replaced with a sinister creature of a sort. It kisses me, drains me of consciousness. I wake up in the bed, legs aching, bruises in the shape of finger prints up my pale thighs, my posterior aches, there's blood on the sheets so red it could have been arterial blood, deep scratches in your back, the roots of my hair scream in agony, underneath your first two fingernails is stained scarlet, too. But you're back in your lovable form, sat on the bed, head in hands. A great despair swarms me. I reach for you, to tell you it's okay, that I'm not really that hurt, but you cast me aside.
You look at me with bloodshot eyes, I tell you I don't remember much of what happened, you nod, say that's good and tell me to wait in bed until you return. We both know I do that every night anyway. You venture down the stairs, gliding with ease above the maroon, wooden floorboards. I hear the clinging of pots, a table being pulled upright, of you using your metaphysical powers for good, for once.
You don't come back up. I stay on the bed for hours, maybe even days, waiting for your return. I am sore. I am so, so sore. My hair hasn't been brushed out of fear of losing the traces of your finger prints on it. It must have been a month by now. I rise from the bed, carrying my bony body towards the table where we both sat for tea. I stare at the sugar. I stare at the whiteness. I contemplate the process of putting sugar into tea, making the sugar brown and disappear, yet making the tea taste better, sweeter, give it more flavour. You tidied before you left. The cups are clean now. Two places are still set nonetheless.
I walk to the window where you used to enter. I hope to see the beautiful ghostly form that picked me up with a tenderness so pure. I don't. I just see stars in the night sky. Disappointed and bruised inside, I walk away with my head hanging. Fireworks boom in the sky. I wonder what it would be like to go outside and experience them. I can't step outside now you have tainted me. I should fade to dust. Would it matter now? If I faded away? Would you miss me? Will you know I'm gone?
There isn't much point now, if I cannot experience the fresh air against my skin anymore. I run to the front door. I take my last breath of air. I step outside. I feel the cells of my skin peel away one by one as I disintegrate into dust.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know it's been months since I've been back my darling. I hope you are still waiting in bed for me. See, I've been doing some thinking and I'm ready to get rid of the demon inside now. I'm ready to be an angel now. I know I treated you badly and I shouldn't have stormed out like that. But I'm coming back for you now.
Walking up to your home, I stare at the architecture of the building. It reminds me of you in its beauty and confidence. I miss your smile.
I fly up to your window. It is still open. I slide in and notice the tea set hasn't moved an inch since the last time I've been. The air of the room has a stillness about it. The ambience of this house is sombre now. Oh, how I long to hear your laugh again! But where are you? The bed is unmade, that is unlike you.
I stare at your sheets that are usually blistering white. They are a crimson red. Blood stains. That was my fault. You haven't washed the bedsheets in months?
Stagger down the stairs, I feel queasy now. I hate to think I caused all that blood...
Your front door is open. The porch door is not.
Inside the porch, your lovely muslin dress. The one your nipples poked out behind. The one that made your pale skin look sun kissed. The ends of that too are blood stained.
Beneath the dress is dust. It is dust with your smell, your aura. I pick it up and let it drop through the gaps in my fingers. A wave of your memories hit me.
It is midnight. I have watched you for months. You are so beautiful. The realms of hell are dark and scorching, but you are my light, you are the coolness on my blistered and burned skin. I tap on your window.
You open it and smile and blush at my compliments. Reluctantly, you let me in. As I glide in, I notice your tea table and comment I'll have two sugars, please. Laughing, you pour me a cup. I look around your girly room. Teddy bears lie all over the floor and on the cupboards, pictures of butterflies on the walls, doves hover over your bed, your bed has magnificent bed posts.
We sit and talk over tea all night. You are so lonely, but darling so am I. You have no idea how lonely it gets down there. You offer me to stay the night, and I accept, albeit a bit nervous about sleeping next to the woman I have protected and watched over for the past 10 years.
In bed you curl up into my chest. You tell me I am warm but you like it. I laugh and wrap my arms around you. Not even Lucifer could separate us now.
Though this is a happy memory, probably the best moment of my pathetic life, I find myself crying. Before I have time to wipe my tears, another memory hits me.
You are alone in your bedroom. A devil comes, like me, but bigger, and darker. Bright fire burns around his figure. He ignites your room and frightens your sleeping persona. He tells you I am a devil like him, and if you decide to continue your relations with me you will return to the dust from which you came. You are convinced it is a bad dream and smoke a cigarette at your tea table.
I did not know this. I should have known this.
You are gone. You are in this dust now. It is my fault for pushing you into this, but you wanted it too, didn't you?
Absolute rage consumes me. Instead of turning into my demon form, I feel an excruciating sensation in my shoulder blades. I'm screaming in pain- pain in my shoulders, and in losing you. Suddenly, huge white wings shoot out of my back, causing blood to come from their bases. I am an angel?
Confused I move the wings. I stare at them through frantic tears. Come back to me, my love. I stare down at the dust. I pick more up in my hands. Then another hand is placed on top of mine.
It is your hand. You have blue wings. We are kissing so hard now. There's no time for apologies or excuses or explanations. You are mine now, and I am yours, forever more.
