I remembered you strong, I remembered you wrong
Martie 23, 2010 § Lasă un comentariu
There I was, on a wooden chair, in the lap of a handsome, faceless stranger, jeans unbuttoned, shirtless, half naked, wet, gliding back and forth on top of my desire, clinging on to the man like a tight rope around his neck.
There I was, on the small terrace where I would build up tents made of sheets and touch myself under their covers when I was six or seven. There I was, on that terrace where they had placed an old, large, wooden chair in which I sat in the afternoons and read stories, the chair which was next to my childhood bed and its little patterns I remember smiling to. There I was, in my stranger’s lap, terrified of being caught, as terrified as I had been when they found me hiding under the blankets with Mr. Bear, but they never realised that I was stark naked and a sick child. And then it happened.
The shadow came from behind, through the open door. I crouched and covered myself, while he hid underneath my bed, like a rabbit trying to slide through a hole far too small for its size. There I was, shivering, arching my back in the sunlight, like a child caught pleasuring himself on a grown up’s toy, knowing that if I closed my eyes no one could see me or my strange stranger.
Finally he came … just another stranger, leaning on top of me, eating up the sunlight, crushing my bones and the first stranger that had hid underneath my childhood bed.