Thursday, November 20, 2003

park bench

like parc bagatelle, inside the bois de vincennes, this huge park on the left side of paris, the park we are at is virtually empty. there are no people in sight for hundreds of meters. the sun is shining, but its not too warm. and we are sitting on this wooden bench, under huge trees with lime green leaves. taking a rest from walking we sit down to prolong the day we are spending together. letting this stolen moment linger for a while, before you and i must part ways.

i lay my head on your shoulder and we are whispering to each other. theres some laughter in there too, but i dont know what we are laughing about. i want to be close with you, i say. you look at me and smile. i climb on your lap, my legs on either sides of your waist, and put my arms on your shoulders. am i heavy, i ask. you say no, your weight on me feels like a blessing. i laugh a little. how corny you get sometimes. but your face tells me the truth. we continue with our talk.

my long white skirt is hiked up to my thighs, and i am swinging my dangling legs. you have your hands under my skirt, on the side of my thighs, touching my skin, tracing small circles. i say, stop that it tickles. you stop moving your fingers. we stop talking for a while, i just put my arms around you and you pull me closer, your arms around my hips. the only thing we hear is the quiet sounds of the park, some birds, wind blowing through leaves. my head is buried in the front of your shirt, and i am savoring how you smell, taking in the moment, filing every little detail in my mind, from how warm it is where our bodies are touching to how your breath feels touching my nape when you exhale.

i raise my head and i look at your lips. how soft they look to me today. they are the same lips ive been seeing for a while. but today they seem more inviting, softer. less harsh. they part in a smile and i cannot help but kiss them. you yield to me and open your mouth. like always when we kiss, there is only your lips and tongue and mine. the ambient sounds drop away, and there is only you and me breathing.

your taste has marked me, i crave it, i say. you say nothing, only look at my forehead to kiss. your hands roam restless on my hips and thighs, hidden under my long flowing skirt. there is an urgency to them. a last gasp of air for the drowning. you clench your fingers and i feel pain. your nails will mark me i know. there will be reddish half moons when i look in the morning. but this moment i ignore the small discomfort and concentrate on feeling. i feel you pull me yet even closer. so close it is unbearable. yet so right. we fit you and i. this close to you and your warmth, smelling your skin, tasting your mouth i begin to weep. you look into my eyes and you say, what blessing.

i raise my head to the heavens and silently pray for succor. more time with you, more time. you bow your head to feel my pulse with your lips. your tongue caresses my skin like worship. why must you leave, i say. wider your mouth opens to bite. i am getting no answer from you i know. and with such pleasure you cause me i forget. when you put your mouth on me like that, everything else is eclipsed. and there is only you putting your marks on me. touching me places where no one else has dared. and i wonder, why must god be so cruel?

i feel like crying, when you run your fingers through my hair, and whisper to me, everything will be ok. i dont say anything, just hug you a little bit tighter, inhale deeper. i am memorizing how you smell, how your chest vibrates when you talk. if i could i want to melt right into you, and take you with me when i leave, i say. you look into my eyes and say again, everything will be ok. it is not a promise and i leave no room to hope. like my faith, something i have lost in a long time, loving you is dreaming.

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