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Tuesday, July 21, 2009



I stood in the shower. Beads of steaming hot water pelted my back like ammunition to numb the pain. It sounded as if the heavens had opened up in the midst of a downpour. The kind of rain you hear playing a tune on your roof during a thunderstorm while snuggled in your bed. And the floodgates of my mind opened as my body began its full release; every muscle went limp. Memories, fluid like water and tears, were washing away. The way your eyes connected to mine, and the feelings of you; the taste of your lips, and the presence of your body in mine, were all slipping through my fingers as the soap glided along. How I longed to be snug again in my bed; in my room filled with dream catchers to sift out my nightmares and leave behind once welcomed fantasies of lying on a beach blanket soaking up the suns radiant glow. But the water runs cold and the step into reality is cushioned by red shag. What’s left of my memories are soaked up in cotton and wrapped around me as a fading reminder….

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I dug the use of dreamcatchers but thought the baptism was ambiguous; did the memories get washed away, or do they attack you when you're naked and alone, perhaps naked and desirous? A towel as a scar is pretty neat, too, imo.