Just a quick part from a touching story!
I stood on the baclcony, wollen shawl slipping over my left shoulder and for once I let it lie. It was only Charlie with me now and he knew the long scar the went from the edge of my neck to just under my left arm and its history. Dawn was tangible and the stars were dreams I had once embroiderd; small and tiny stiches in a million facceted plans every inch of how it was suposed to go. I felt Charlie pulling up my shawl before I heard the curtin swing-he was to quick of me. "You know I hate seeing that" his voice a sigh, thin and quick, like the thead that held my stars. I leaned into his shoulders, it was my shelter and the once place I was constantly running from, I shrugged the shawl to hang off my shoulder again. "Please," I whispered, knowing he didn't like the words, "let it be, it's the only time I don't care." I reached and pulled my hair over my right shoulder and leaned forward on the railing, water rushing periliously below and I thought how easy... "Don't" it was all he said. It was more what he did not say, more what he touched, pulling his finger down the puckered edges of tight skin, I breathed and knees bucking my skin danced under some thing that was as close as I thought a second skin could get. He felt me shiver and wraped me tight in our darkness full of memories like this one, standing both of our arms wraped around me and I leaned in. I felt like a magnet. He was the oposite of my magnet: hold us right and we were solid turn only one of us and I was often that was pushed away. No. I was often the one that pushed myself away. "Oh Charlie." He kissed the tip of my ear and I leaned my head against his cheeck, feeling the stubble that rubbed with each breath. It was better than placeing a hand on his chest...this felt, primal. Like us. He was mine, but he was not; we were not...not lovers. That was the word people thought when they saw us. Like one of us would be married somwhere and coming to be wiht the other in a small town. I knew I was always the one they thought had led him astray from some small house wiht a fence and yard dappled children and dogs. When I thought about it, really focused, trying to borrow threads of permenance from my stars I could find to word for us. Temporary. Constant. Flighty. It was new use, there was no word I knew in any language that could fit the neiche between us. It was as if we were the same, a gently curving creation that had been split with such care that we never lost even a sliver. Until I jarred the sculpting tool. It was my sin, I carried it and even though it had been sewn over long ago I knew Charlie flinched at it and blamed himself in fretful nights of shallow slumber. And even as I thought and rememberd, staring at my dappled sky he rubbed the heel of his plam into my scar trying to rub in his own diamonds out of coal colored fears.
~Kitty
