marmoreal
“Kiss me and you will see how important I am.”
The green drapes taunt darkness. Gauzy things, I can look out into the white and yellow hallway. Marbled floors and a creaky elevator that snaps shut and buzzes on the inside. Lights flicker like the blood breathing around my bones. Vultures dine regardless of whether or not the carcass is ready. Splitting muscle from bone with the ease of a scuba diver stripping the bodysuit and fins.
None of this belongs to us- not really. I look no from the white bed where I tossed and turned in milky continents from stars that blew spangly banners that read, ‘make a wish.’ The table and coffee cups are made of glass.
Paper mache sticks once you’ve cooked it in the oven. We are not like the birds or the rabbits; the feast must be prepared before consumption. The plastic floorboards meet plastic baseboards and the walls are so thin I hear the groans from the other room on floor five. Sunspots blossom on the backs of my shoulders and thighs and I want you to trace them with your tongue so I can feel the heat build on the surface.
I’m creamy on the inside. I dream in flash-fiction, short stories no longer than a postcard. Five sentences to build to a climax. No resolution is necessary. The ending is never as finite as the beginning. I knew I loved you the moment I saw you. Across the dark bar, a tunnel of red, green, and gold led me to your hazel eyes and a smile as vast as Saturn’s rings. I went into the room of two and made it to three.
Candle wax is wonderful. I lick to catch fire between forefinger and thumb. Stripped by the flame, the object becomes the subject as it bleeds tears of honeycomb. In the cold, the beads stop mid-break in their journey to the glass table.
Where are you now? I’ve called out once, twice. I will not reach further with limb or language. The bed is too short and my feet poke over the edges where the white blanket spreads like a swan dipping its feet into the water. The wings wide before the fall. Its beak serrated like the kitchen knife. Glass on glass, the sharp sound of desire carving rough edges before my heart shatters.
Make a wish before it turns to dust.
Photo source.
