There is a house, at the top of the dark sea cliff. It’s an old wooden cottage, with a creaky floor and lit candles in the window. It is a place where I escape my realities. I’m sitting in the corner of the room, in an old oak chair. I watch you sleep on the old rusty cot. Your hair is scattered on the pillow and through a sheer flaxen nightgown, I see the contours of your body. I must not.
Touch… Touches …
Touches are my road to the nearest heaven, my password through forgotten passages and forbidden gates. You sleep, unaware of this constant battle in my chest, unaware of the enormous strength that I use when this volcano in my veins wants to erupt and come out of like a flamboyant trace out of my palms and breath. Touches, my fiery brushes I use to write on the ice in your eyes. That ice that I see, when you look at me. That ice that burns my mind as an injustice burns my soul. How can you not see that I desire your fire, not your ice?
The night dissipates its dark blue shades over a starry sky, slowly entering in every corner of the cottage, making the night nuances refract over your velvet neck. I watch you sleep, I watch you breathe and somewhere between your inhale and exhale, I’m imprisoned. Between reality and dream, pain and happiness, splendour and greyness, secret and strength, doubts and certainty, sorrow and remorse, magic and light, night and morning seagulls, between fragile nightingale and mighty black raven. You’ve captured me between my love and hate for you.
Like burning red shackles on my wrists, I’m fighting this urge to touch you, to burn your skin with my fingers and to cut your back with my nails, as the lighting does to the midnight sky. Touch is my first and last moment in the constellations of my wanderings, oceans and awakenings.
The dawn is breaking, the night slowly dies on the wings of the first daylight. You are still sleeping on an old cot and with my eyes on your inner tights, I’m slowly losing this battle. My control drowns in an adrenaline rush. I must go, I must escape… into the silence…Otherwise, you will destroy all my universes and I will be left without a place to hide. I agree to it, I will let it happen, but only if you promise me that you will hold me tight and that with your embrace, you will shield me from the world.
Your breathing is getting faster, you are moving your nightgown down, you are waking up…
To stay or to run? Am I a coward or a conqueror?
No, I don’t love you. No, I don’t hate you. I just want you. Let me touch you.