(no subject)
More words that don't belong to me:
jus primae noctis (the right of the first night)
He began speaking apologies before she had opened her door. It was safer that way, to have had something to say at the moment when Fate chose its course. Both of them stood there expectantly, betrayed by an innocent gift. He had cornered himself with the roses he held and he cursed her hands hung so sweetly by their thorns. But it made him feel real, like the present was meant to be lived and the past could stay hidden for now, while the moment tastes good.
The carpet was begging for alibis and the bed was just wishing for sleep, but the longer he stayed, the more motives she claimed, like possession had always been hers. Before he could speak she had toppled him, forcing his mouth onto hers. Then the guilt it did spill 'til her mouth it was filled and she choked on the blame that came forth as it poured. But his venom was curative and it made her awake from her dream just as he fell asleep again. How else could it end? Shaking hands? Staying friends? Parting ways leaves our sins covered up and uncleansed.
--The Silent Type
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We went to a midnight candelight Christmas mass tonight at a sprawling 1800's Gothic church with large stained glass windows and impressive steeple, now slightly overshadowed by business expansion. The snow started falling a little after 11pm and the magic of a white Christmas was finally granted and we walked along Fifth Avenue with the comfort that comes with being old friends, the tiny snowflakes decorating our coats, scarves and hair.
I didn't originally want to go, feeling like I abandoned any semblance of religion so many years ago but we're both far from home this Christmas and she wanted to retreat to somewhere that felt like family and warmth. Being with her, being her friend, was the least I could do for the kind of sacrifices she's made to make my holiday far from Texas as comfortable as possible. And the sermon so spoke to me that I had to force back the aching tears. And the man next to me, the man who sat alone on this Christmas Eve, sang the hymns and carols with such conviction and love and happiness that I couldn't help but smile with each note.
Merry Christmas.
jus primae noctis (the right of the first night)
He began speaking apologies before she had opened her door. It was safer that way, to have had something to say at the moment when Fate chose its course. Both of them stood there expectantly, betrayed by an innocent gift. He had cornered himself with the roses he held and he cursed her hands hung so sweetly by their thorns. But it made him feel real, like the present was meant to be lived and the past could stay hidden for now, while the moment tastes good.
The carpet was begging for alibis and the bed was just wishing for sleep, but the longer he stayed, the more motives she claimed, like possession had always been hers. Before he could speak she had toppled him, forcing his mouth onto hers. Then the guilt it did spill 'til her mouth it was filled and she choked on the blame that came forth as it poured. But his venom was curative and it made her awake from her dream just as he fell asleep again. How else could it end? Shaking hands? Staying friends? Parting ways leaves our sins covered up and uncleansed.
--The Silent Type
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
We went to a midnight candelight Christmas mass tonight at a sprawling 1800's Gothic church with large stained glass windows and impressive steeple, now slightly overshadowed by business expansion. The snow started falling a little after 11pm and the magic of a white Christmas was finally granted and we walked along Fifth Avenue with the comfort that comes with being old friends, the tiny snowflakes decorating our coats, scarves and hair.
I didn't originally want to go, feeling like I abandoned any semblance of religion so many years ago but we're both far from home this Christmas and she wanted to retreat to somewhere that felt like family and warmth. Being with her, being her friend, was the least I could do for the kind of sacrifices she's made to make my holiday far from Texas as comfortable as possible. And the sermon so spoke to me that I had to force back the aching tears. And the man next to me, the man who sat alone on this Christmas Eve, sang the hymns and carols with such conviction and love and happiness that I couldn't help but smile with each note.
Merry Christmas.