Whence she told me she never wanted to see me again, everything deserted me. I gulped saliva to replenish my defense speech, but my glands went on a protest. I tried reaching for my inhaler, for I was struggling to breathe. She was thumping my chest; yelling; hurling and calling me names. She cursed the day she ever met me; I thought this was normal.
My childish pride never abandoned me though. It stood beside me ridiculing my guilt. It thumped its chest; boasting like a drunken fool, daring me, “what you gonna do?”
Her long hair; messy with anger clouded her face. She flipped it sideways in the most naturally attractive way; revealing a round face succulent with rage. Tears spewed from her eyes as her eyelashes draped hazily to brush them off. Her lips were wet with bitterness.
But I swear I’m a changed man. I do not rip off limbs from the cripples anymore. Even then, there’s a persistent outcry within me. To hold her by the waist; fold her like a ribbon; pet her like a baby. Amidst bitterness and rage I wanted to kiss her.
Her lips moved faster than the waves of my earlobes. Nothing she said I could grasp. At her I stared blatantly like an infant who barely has any idea of existence of death. It was as if my soul was purged from my body; and from the roof it stared musingly as the episodes enveloped. There was a way she could equivocally stir desires in me.
So I reached forward; grabbed her by the waist; kissed her.
No! I didn’t. She bit me; and for once in my pathetic life I gave up.
*©Heart_Art_Poetics*
Phill Ibsen
(Master Of Descriptions)
2017
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