i used to think that being with someone like you was a luxury…a treat…a guilty pleasure. there wasn’t much more i could do than consume you alive, every ounce of your flesh, pressing myself into your back and pulling back ever so slightly before you consumed me in return. i wanted to see your eyes hungry for me, rip the apparitions from the sky and force feed them to my aching memories while you tore at my dress and pushed me down, only to look up at you…smiling. this was a hannah miet type of moment where you were mixed in with words and the thick air of sex and thunderstorms while i looked behind me and saw that glimpse of her pearls hiding behind the frames on the mantle – just before you took me over.. i was shredded to bits while breathless and aching, wanting to leave but begging for your mercy repeatedly. cruelty and fire and a hand that could run from the side of my neck down my belly to the insides of my thighs and no matter what happened, i craved that little apartment in the sky where you covered me in velveteen and dripped honey from your fingertips. it was a messy affair, we were headed straight to hell in our addiction and few men ever kept me in a constant state of flux like you did. there was a fierceness to the way you put your hands on my hips and pulled my curves into your shape. boys were always so polite, but not you. it was a time where i lost myself in you and it was not something i ever revisited.
but i always saw bits of you throughout those years, from the boy with the red popsicle, dripping down my back and swallowing me whole, to that late night lying by the rivers edge, his hands pushing up my skirt til my hips moved just so to invite him closer, to the back of my old pickup truck in that hayfield on top of a mountain and upside down shoe prints in the dust found the next morning. you were there, whispering close to me while biting my earlobe, pushing me away all the while. they never knew about that night. it was over before it began and sometimes i miss the way you found me on that dance floor and sometimes i miss that punk rock stare and sometimes i miss the way you liked to pull my hair just enough to make me move the way you wanted me to.
after you, i spread the ashes of that universe in my garden and grew from a girl into a woman.