Taking my Picture

His eyes were pale, lost, yet passionately angry, his hair darker than my own was worn long. His jacket slung across a chair fell to the floor with my dignity. He wasn’t the type you took home to mom, but then again I was rarely the girl boys took anywhere. I settled into the couch as he pulled out another bottle, a boyish grin. Keeping me primed was probably good as an hour ago I hadn’t known where I would be.

 The walk from the Shoreline was short, little to remember.

He held my arm close, my head on his sleeve I smelt the past surge through my body, a rush a flush of emotion. Was he truly going to take me or just throw this trash away on the curb? A small trip landed me flat on the sidewalk.

“Whoa, you are gone” My head was reeling but not intoxicated, his voice rough and saucy, unbroken dark dangerous. He extends a slender hand presented flat, royally dignified, as if to be kissed but I knew he was just being kind. I grab the boyish digits and pull myself to safety. “You OK?” he doesn’t care but I feel his eyes holding me here.

“Yeah, just distracted, sorry” It was true his scent had reminded me of HIM, I lost myself again caught in the wind off the water I turned into it wondering if HE was still watching me.

“Here we go” we went up

The apartment was much larger than I would have imagined and I found myself again wondering what he expected of me. The voices are clear but I choose not to hear them, they would try to stop him.

Anonymous returned moments later, from behind the glass veil, with two drinks, I see through him but down the liquid, why do I care what was in it? My innocent giggle misleads, I write stories with my tongue, sharp lies. The shutter capturing my journey. His hands linger on my chest and his tongue punctuates my life sentence. He is the first to cross these borders since HE took them away. We lie together, He does the writing now. The story is long and dark, deep unfinished sentences feel shallow within me. A flash and still frame photo of this day.

 Voices within, memories, HER voice, the sound of HIS camera.

Long ago I had been innocent, unknowing but now in this moment, as he melts into me young arms holding me, his voice matching that of the screams, I think I LOVE HIM TOO.

The End

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