Prose Piece

Decided to stretch my limits with this one. Not my typical stuff, and still needs work, but trying to branch out just a bit...

The evening news fizzles like white noise in the background as I immerse myself in the fantasy world of the sci-fi book I’m reading. I tied my hair out of my face, but yours is splayed across my lap. Absentmindedly, I pull my fingers through your locs, massaging your scalp from time to time. This is our nightly ritual. You demand a place made of flesh to rest your head and I need a break from my work. I hate the news and you aren’t fond of fiction; this is our compromise.

“Babe, raise up for me.” I wiggle the thigh beneath your head.

“Where are you going? The news isn’t over.” You don’t move.

“Well, my bladder doesn’t care. While you finish watching the horrors of the world, I’m gonna start my shower.” I slide off the couch as I talk.

“No you won’t.”

Your objection stops me mid-stride.

“Go ahead and use the bathroom, but bring my pillow back.”

I pick up the conversation again from the doorway a few minutes later. “Your pillow, huh? I could have sworn it was connected to my body, sir.” I smirk at you from my place, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Woman, did I not claim you as you claimed me? That damn body is mine as much as mine is yours. Now quit playing and come here so I can get comfortable.

Well damn. I can’t argue with that, even though I want to. So I rebel by lying down in front of you the sofa, instead of propping your head up as before.

“You must think you’re cute.”

“My man tells me I am, “ I counter, snuggling deeper against your body and adding a giggle.

“Nah, your man is wrong.”

I jerk my head toward you, smacking both of us with my hair. “Excuse me?”

“I said—“

“I heard what you said.” A fake pout graces my lips and I playfully nudge you in the ribs with my elbow.

Your hips rise as you rotate me to my back with my face to yours. One of your legs nestles between mine and your top half looms over me seductively. Goose bumps form a trail on my skin after your finger traces along the hem of my shirt thoughtfully.

My previously pursed lips can’t help but twist into a lazy smile and my eyes lower by at least fifty percent. “So my man doesn’t think I’m cute?”

“Nope. You’re absolutely breathtaking. You’re beautiful.”

My laughter interrupts your declarations.

“Hey, look at me.” Your voice takes a serious tone, accompanied by furrowed brows and fingers tipping my chin so that our eyes meet. “Listen to me and listen to me good…well.”

I smile at you correcting your grammar before I can and deliver a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m listening.”

“You are amazingly beautiful. I don’t have all of the words to paint the picture the right way, but know that I mean that with everything inside of me. Both as a wonderful soul and an attractive body, you are to be cherished.”

And with that, tears well in my eyes. Before they can fall and before I can verbally respond, your lips assault mine in a spine tingling, passionate kiss. Your mouth’s pursuit increases from convincing to punishing, revealing your hunger for me.

I answer bite for bite, moan for moan, and thirst for unyielding thirst as we both indulge in each other.

I am yours, you are mine, and we claim one another multiple times, each orgasm planting a flag on pieces of our souls. We not only claim, but tend to and take responsibility for every part we capture. Silent promises to love and protect conquered territories are issued by decree from the only ones who matter: the king and queen in attendance, ordained by the love shared between them.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

They Say Time Heals

Don't Remember

They ask about you, you know.
"You haven't mentioned him lately..."
"Are you doing okay since...him?"
"Whatever happened to him?"

Then my face tries to follow
Directions from my internal screams to be strong.
My head dips as I take a deep breath,
Blinking rapidly to hold back the flood.

"Oh, forget I said anything,"
Or something similar, is the usual reaction
When the pain I wasn't able to hide well enough
Hurls toward them like a tidal wave.

Forget? What do you think I've been doing?
Forgetting the love that almost consumed me.
Forgetting the look on my face in that one picture.
Forgetting the organ in my chest that still beats painfully.

Oh, forget all of that?
Yeah, okay.
I'm trying,
But none of this is easy.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Not Always A Good Day

Suicidal Glances

Learn from the past.
Do it differently.
My heart is so broken,
It won't go back the same way.
Different won't be hard.
Your smile soothes it a bit
Until i realize, it's because
You're looking at her.

It's not in the pictures we took.
It's not in how you talked to me.
It was lost in the words you never said.
The absence is like a chasm
stretching across the emptiness
That you evacuated.

I am so shattered.
And I don't think I can
Ever tell you just how much
Because when I begin to simply
Concentrate in order to define it...

Tears swell
My chest heaves
My breath draws short
And I'm sinking.
The walls close in
The lights dim
My hands shake...
And then I shut it down.

I can't do it.
I'm not strong enough for that.
Before the tormented wail can
Erupt from the depths within
Myself that are too scary for me
To explore on my own,
I have to make it stop.

And so my once obvious look of
Love has become a forced grimace,
A brave face, well mask actually.
One that refuses to crack beneath
Watchful eyes of loving friends
Searching for the drop that will signal
The breaking of the dam they all expect.

It took my torment, pain, and devastation
To give way to the love that rests on your face
And this is the first time I can remember
My phoenix setting herself on fire knowingly.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy

Sigh

Cyclic Attachment

Goodbye has become a common place
Where I lay to rest dreams and desires.
When I add to the collection,
I tend to browse the aisles and smile
At the memories that once haunted me.

I unpack my expectations and lay down burdens.
You never see hopes and fantasies as baggage
Until those you built them on bid adieu.
They're so much heavier when you carry them alone.
But alas, lifted weight is truly a blessing.

Even though you float away from
All you ever thought you wanted,
A lifted, changed perspective
Allows for an enlightened view
Of all the beauty you missed along the way.

Copyright © 2014 Natasha Guy