Thursday, 11 June 2009

• Vim

  I could tell by the suspicious look in her eyes that tonight was going to be a long one. 
  “Who told you?”  She let the words wrap themselves around her lips, a snake begging for a fresh bite.
  “It doesn’t matter, Sunshine.” 
  “Yes, it does.  Tell me.  Now.”  The flint of her eyelashes was an attempt to flare me into divulging some secretive truth buried deep inside my gossip less thoughts.
  With the moon eating dandelions, I stared straight into her grey eyes, unmoving and forceful, until the timed sprinklers turned on and drenched us with morose attired droplets.
  “You’re going to regret this someday.  You’re made of trouble as shallow and dim as the puddles gathering at your feet.”  She tackled me with blonde fists, pummeling the echoes from inside her hollow skull, screaming obscene, sexy things into my tingling ears. 
  “Mmmm… baby, I’m a man of no regrets.”  I took her wrists in one hand, left hip in the other, and spun her beneath me.  “You’re soon to figure that one out on your own.” 
  Those crazy eyes glared up at me as she spit in my face.  I laughed and kissed her hard, square on the mouth.  “Too late for formalities.”  I hissed my name into the film of sweat separating our moist skin. 
  “I know who it was.  It was you all along.  It was always you.”  If she was hurt, she was damn good at hiding it.
  “Bingo.  Yours truly.”  I was putting all of my weight on her now, creating an outline of our bodies in the sinking mud.
  Clearly she was struggling to piece together the photographic memories she carried over from the last week or so.  The strain of her scrunched face only made my body hotter. 
  “Fuck you,” she whispered; angry, but not upset.
  “Soon, Baby, soon.” 
  

  
  

  
  

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