And there is a man at her back and fingers caressing her throat and her own eyes in the mirror staring back and wondering at the image before it, a woman who holds the world within her muscles and bones - caught and tied to a man with a quick smile and flashing eyes and a laugh that does curious things to her toes.
"Am I so very different now?"
She doesn't want the answer, she needs the answer, she is terrified of his answer, she cannot turn away from the mirror.
He taps on her forehead, "In here, maybe."
She wants to run, feels a burning desire to smash the glass and give it up - give it all up (but what will be left? how can she quantify which is her anymore when she is so many parts?).
He smiles and kisses her ear, pressing a hand over her heart, "But here you are the same."
She gazes upon the hand on her skin in the mirror and it causes a stutter in her chest. He can feel it, she knows, because his chest rumbles with laughter against her back.
She drags her eyes away from the hand to the face of the man behind her, looking past her own body, past her own confusion, and finds him watching her.
Not her reflection.
Not looking back and forth between the creature of flesh beneath his hands and the shadow reflected in the mirror.
All this time she was divided, watching herself watch herself be loved and never embracing it. Will it kill her, this excess of emotion? This excess of life? To pull away from the things that divide her into many moving parts and become one machine pulled in one direction? Will she fall?
Will the fall kill her yet again?
She turns in his arms and faces him, chest to chest, lips to lips, palm to palm. She can hear a roaring in her ears and she is falling, too quickly, so effortlessly, there is nothing holding her back, she rises up on her toes to press her lips more fully against his and he groans against her.
He submits to her, follows her falls with her, and the shock of that buoys her up, makes her whole again.
In the morning ancient eyes peer out at her from a young face and young hands pull back ancient hair. She is the sum of her parts, she has fallen and she will continue to fall. She is the universe within the body of a woman.
"Am I so very different now?"
She doesn't want the answer, she needs the answer, she is terrified of his answer, she cannot turn away from the mirror.
He taps on her forehead, "In here, maybe."
She wants to run, feels a burning desire to smash the glass and give it up - give it all up (but what will be left? how can she quantify which is her anymore when she is so many parts?).
He smiles and kisses her ear, pressing a hand over her heart, "But here you are the same."
She gazes upon the hand on her skin in the mirror and it causes a stutter in her chest. He can feel it, she knows, because his chest rumbles with laughter against her back.
She drags her eyes away from the hand to the face of the man behind her, looking past her own body, past her own confusion, and finds him watching her.
Not her reflection.
Not looking back and forth between the creature of flesh beneath his hands and the shadow reflected in the mirror.
All this time she was divided, watching herself watch herself be loved and never embracing it. Will it kill her, this excess of emotion? This excess of life? To pull away from the things that divide her into many moving parts and become one machine pulled in one direction? Will she fall?
Will the fall kill her yet again?
She turns in his arms and faces him, chest to chest, lips to lips, palm to palm. She can hear a roaring in her ears and she is falling, too quickly, so effortlessly, there is nothing holding her back, she rises up on her toes to press her lips more fully against his and he groans against her.
He submits to her, follows her falls with her, and the shock of that buoys her up, makes her whole again.
In the morning ancient eyes peer out at her from a young face and young hands pull back ancient hair. She is the sum of her parts, she has fallen and she will continue to fall. She is the universe within the body of a woman.
She is a librarian.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment