16 degrees and I’m sweating from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. My heart vibrates life into each of my limbs. My stomach filled with sweet cocoa bean and laughs for days. I can feel God’s gaze as I lift my arms to the ceiling. Closing my eyes I can only imagine a world that feels like this, oh sweet life I am living. I am drunk on you.
The candles burn as sweet apple cinnamon fumes fill the air. I look down at my four legged companion, whose looking up at me with peculiar admiration as if he were saying, “Human what are you doing now?”
I lick my teeth and smile as the music begins to flood the room. I sway my body with the melody as if I were making love to each chord being strung, each key being played. I wrap my arms around myself and feel the goose bumps creep up on my skin.
The man I walked away from yesterday calls me a wanderer, and I wonder what it means to wander in a world such as the one we live in today. Would it make him feel at ease if I let him be the traveler, collecting stamps on his passport and red clay in his shoes? Would it ease his soul if I refrained from asking too much, crying too often, loving too suddenly. Would it make more sense if I drew a box in the sand and made my own castle inside the lines?
Or are we all living in our own paradox consumed with how we perceive what we know. Momma always told me, daddy always let me be. Whatever I saw on the television set during T.V dinners must have been true.
Today I decide I won’t worry too much, for my body is limber, eager to stretch itself East towards the coast or west towards the sun. My heartbeat is fervently quickening and leading my brain away from whatever it has been aching for. For years it has been aching.
I used to find solace in slipping into my skintight red dress showing my curves were in all the right places, at barstools in crowds of strangers, waiting for another man to fill up my cup.
The body of a goddess, career of a lifetime, the love of a western world and an earth shattering romance with a sun kissed dream. If only they were all mine.
I free you from my pulse, my veins, and my blood. I empty you from me.
I wash away the echoes of a previous self, basking in egocentrism and hollow promises my reflection made with the devil so long ago.
The snow is falling, and creating blankets of white all around me. I happily oblige and welcome the silence that it brings.
Still dancing to the beat of the music playing in my head, I sway my bony hips back and forth, back and forth. Playing with my wild mane that never seems to stay in place. Finally accepting that it never will.
Alone with the dimensions of my mind I pour myself a glass of pinot, I sip and can taste the fermented grapes between my lips. They’ve tasted sickness, and health. They’ve kissed lovers of all shapes and sizes, ethnicities and ages. They’ve inhaled smoke from multiple continents and have bitten into ripe peaches, rotten cherries, skin of velvet and skin of leather. But they can’t reminisce about that now; they are too consumed with the seduction of wine and whistling Norah jones.
I look down at my four-legged companion, still peculiarly staring as I smile at the peanut butter somehow stuck to his nose. As if he were laughing to himself,
“Oh my god, silly human. What are you doing now?”