My tomorrow (part 1)

I see white.  A towel.  No.  A bathrobe, and you’re wrapped in it.  Sitting in the middle of the bed.  Your legs are crossed.  I’m sitting across from you.  We’re at the center of the room.  There’s a tv behind me, but it’s switched off.  The bathroom door is ajar.  The light in it is on, and steam from the shower you just took is slowly making its way into the room.  I notice a small cluster of delicate pale scars on your left knee.  I trace them with my right index finger.  The callus rubbing against the tiny indentations on your skin.  A couple of scars wind up your leg, disappearing under the robe.  My hand glides over them.  The robe slowly falls away as my hand moves along your thigh.  The room is quiet, and so are we.  Halfway up your thigh, you stop me.  You lean over towards the nightstand and retrieve the silver letter opener.  You press the flat dull surface of it against my leg.  It’s cold. You look up at me, the tip of the blade is pressed against my left thigh.  I silently nod, and you press the blade deeper.  I bite my lip as blood slowly trickles down my thigh.  I pull you onto my lap.  I kiss your shoulder, and you dig your nails into my neck.  I kiss your neck, and your nails dig deeper into my flesh.  Your red lips curve into a smile, satisfied with the marks you’ve left on me.  You press the tip of the letter opener into my chest, and you lean in to whisper, “give me your heart, just don’t give away your love.”

One comment

  1. Elliott Templeton

    This sounds like a role for Angelina Jolie to play!

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