Mclennon Drabbles

The Leech

I did not know the true definition of love until I saw the smiling image of my dead mother in your tear-soaked eyes.

I had not felt the warmth of admiration until your caring fingers twisted up my hair and you held me in your arms until I was whole again.

Wholeness was something new to be felt, you took the tiny pieces and rearranged them into something that made sense.

I composed my first love song for you only months after we had met, only at the time I wasn't sure if my feelings were to be relied upon.

Your hundred watt grin and hazel irises pulled me in before I could think twice, and the night after my mother's funeral I kissed you.

I was a babbling mess in your graceful presence, ruining your favorite shirt with a dreaded mix of water and salt, and to make up for it I spent the next hour kissing every part of your mouth.

You cradled me as if I were a child and told me not to cry, not to apologize for tainting your beautiful lips with my trembling, unworthy ones.

I did not deserve the love you gave to me throughout the years.

I was harsh and brazen and I made you weep more times than I'm proud of with my lies and insults.

This wasn't a foreign concept to you, though. Your pretty tongue could lash out ugly words and back and forth we went, always back and forth. Pushing and pulling, gripping onto cracks in the pavement that weren't really there.

But we learned from these encounters, learned about each other and ourselves, how far we could be pushed.

Then the days of summer and love and simplicity faded into a rough and cold and bitter winter, and suddenly ten years had passed.

The words of love you had carved into my skin with your tongue were healing and closing up again.

I felt you drifting and I felt myself growing distant as I became better acquaintances with the lady who showed me the artistic beauty of everyday things.

She opened up new worlds to me and took me places I'd never dreamed of seeing, and I knew I would never be bored with her.

Oh, dear Macca, it wasn't that I became bored with you.

The sound of guitar chords and shrieking fans were dulling in my mind and the possibilities of her were sharp and focused.

It is possible that in this life we can have two soul mates, two life partners.

It may be unusual or hard to understand, but I knew from the beginning that rules are meant to be stretched.

You wouldn't believe me, though.

You never truly understood that I needed you both, even when you said you did. Your eyes were filled with tears and the next evening you told me to just call you Paul, no longer wanting the terms of endearment.

I only choked back a strangling sob and stared at you void of emotion. I did manage to steal one last kiss on the cheek, though, on my way out, pretending I could not see you wipe it away in disgust.

After all, you would recover.

I had walked away from my safe haven, and you were alleviated from the leech that had clung onto you all this time.