I realize now that I am the words I know, and he was the words I felt… I was aware yet cared not to believe until it was too late, he was my box Pandora, and I simply unlatched the key. I believed he could save me.

“Belief becomes a feeling, only when Faith fails!”

Green is the color of jealousy and callow, of lush new grass and unripe riches… Green is also the color of humiliation in pride, a deviant color that encompasses its surroundings.  You could say there is no proof to the color yellow, a simple statement that would produce much speculation, but truth.  In a spectrum of red through indigo, yellow the only color completely taken over by it dominant blue, or green…there is no such influence in a spectrum of color as YELLOW; we know it exists, but how?  This is FAITH.

It is very fitting that this room be green; with years gone past the paint which once shone bright in the eyes of the willing now fades in the black lights of death and demise.  I feel him walking with me in his arms through the door, a glow of anticipation in his hands as he guides me past the door way and into the middle of the room.

“OK my prince, your castle” He whispered into my ear as he unveils the vision.

My first glance of the place struck me like a brick to the chest; never had I seen such a devastated color, I was in awe of its majestic appeal. 

“You love it don’t you” I leaned in to the statement and the vastness that had become his chest.

“I am in love with it.” Looking not into the eyes which long to please him but beyond the walls and through the ceiling, he continued “I can’t imagine not being here. You will like it too” he stood strong and rigid absorbing my excitement. He looked down at me and waited while I took in the moment. 

“I love it too; we are going to live here!” I jumped into his arms and kissed his lush full lips, devouring their vastness.

The first night we made love under the white trimmed window of the green room, I remember it was completely uncontrollable and horribly passionate. With the heat of the July moon and the breeze of the alleys shaded walk, our flushed red bodies mingled in deviant pleasure while lips and sweat drenched bodies pressed against each other to attempt the impossible task that at once seemed would merge and at others to recoil to oneness with in themselves, our tongues whipping through erroneous endearments, as hands wiped erogenous fluids.  My body contorts to a whim of passion and my mind racing to remember every moment. 

I was in heaven there in his arms and he could have been my Divinity. I remember his smell, the sweat drawn hair falling across his intense green irises and blank drawn out pupils, his muscular arms and rib-boned manly torso… the powerful chiseled hips which drove my tender body and drew blood from my stone, I was at his mercy and he was at my call. 

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Author guidance for This story

This story is one of three short story concepts in my collection "Having Sex on a Bed of Nails" which questions- Can we truly love that which causes us pain? It is not for the faint hearted and does at times deal with extremely mature content, and strong drug use. It tells the story of a man- on the dawn of his thirtieth birthday -who returns to the place of his happiest memories, to attempt to make sense of his missing joy, only to find he is being haunted by what he seeks. His true challenge will come in determining which are real and which are illusions.

Veiw cover art at: http://wickedmirror.deviantart.com/art/Shadows-of-Light-179684838

updated Sep 18 '10 by wickedmirror