Drinks, dessert, doorway dance. Experiences of long ago.
Doors opened, doors held, doors no longer slammed shut.
Teenage wanting wound tight in a stretched and scarred body.
Music, from inside her head, maybe the other room.
… “who’s got their claws in you my friend…into your heart I’ll beat again…”
Tell tale. Who knew it still could.
… “touch your lips just so I know, in your eyes, love, it glows so…I’m bare boned and crazy for you…”
Fingers on buttons, in hair, between lips.
A giggle, because she knows what’s to come.
Please let the lighting be kind.
… “I’m begging you to forgive me in my haste…”‘
Boots shed. Hands slide.
… “hike up your skirt a little more and show your world to me, in a boy’s dream…”
She knows she will survive this.
– I wanted to write. Write what, who knows? So I clicked to the Write on Edge ladies who never disappoint. Today was a flash memoir. Ten minutes and three hundred non-fiction words based on one word – “Crash” – but I was itching for fiction, and this fell out. Forgive me my loves.
Now, take your bad self over to Write on Edge, and read much better words from more talented people who follow the rules.