Tuesday, April 9, 2013
There's a baby god playing with pots and pans in the sky which is just light enough to show me the heavy clouds. I pull close the golden curtains, a sigh at another few hours to live with. Before I can slip into temporary death.
Shedding the layers that covered my shame, I pull a thin cloth around me before pulling the heavy darkness around my face into a messy 'do.
The smell of honey and lemon danced in the air as the moistness sticks to my face with a promise of a glow that rival the night's lover. Narrowing my eyes at the looking glass, I killed Narcissus' whisper a moment too late.
The coolness in the air seemed to soothe the insecurities, or perhaps it was the love of my resting place. The ticking of the time piece reminded me of what I'm supposed to do.
In a graceful movement, the cloth pools on the floor as the wood creaked at every step. 17 steps before the baby cloud drizzled down over me. Cool drops of water has never felt as refreshing.
Hands on skin. Hands filled with almond bubbles. Hands that soothed and calmed. A flick of the wrist, a tilt of the head and an infusion of milk and aloe that promised a gleaming softness.
Soft skin. Yummy skin. Drops of water trickled down a caramel toned length. Heavy lashes of soot wiped away. Worries put aside in jewelled boxes. Insecurity folded and kept in a drawer.
As cloud maidens danced on the roof to the baby god's tune I finally give freedom to the demon inside of me. The one I love and fear the most. He dances. He touches.
And whisper into my ear. Every desire hope and want. Longing that lead to sadness.
He tells me a story of what I know will never happen. He tells me the plot in the tiniest details with such a glee. A smile on his face as I succumbed to the cruelty of the love child of imagination. Daydreaming. A wicked laugh at the first tear.
The baby god keeps playing.