The night is a mistress of life. It is the hardest time to be alive for, those silent hours bring forth Melancholic air and scandalous actions. In its prime it feeds off of the secrets, schemes and lies made within it, knowing it was only a matter o...
" You don't get to die and be reborn the same. You come back, but you come back wrong. This is the price you pay for resurrection."- Nathaniel Orion
NY, NY SEPTEMBER
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Something is different.
Night after night over the past decade, I've been harassed by thoughts that come when daylight approaches.
It is whispers of all of my wicked deeds done in the dark that linger in my mind, trying to find any holes in armor to make me feel ashamed, guilt, remorse or something akin that could make me hate myself. It tells me I do not deserve light; that I am a villain; a monster; that I should've died long ago. Nothing breaks through. But I've allowed the whispers to continue to ruin my sleep and badger me as a reminder to not go too far. So I've grown used to the noise, naming it another effect to the life I live.
But something feels different today.
This must be a hypnagogic state I'm fading out of before the insomnia jerks me up or a new way to pester me. For the sun has already risen and my brain is well rested.
I've yet to open my eyes, focused on my other senses. Entangled in sheets, Raven's legs are wrapped around mine and her body is molded against me. Her upturned nose rubs my skin with a slight movement; Light touches from her hands over my torso, feathered kisses placed on my chest, there's an uproar inside of my ribcage.
Once I searched for softness, hot flushed skin burns my fingers as I outline the script on her hip. It's Latin and I've kissed the area enough times to know it says: Dum spiro, Spero.
I knew the translation: While I breathe, I hope.
Am I breathing right now?
Yes.
Inhaling, I smell lavender shampoo and shea butter lotion, tracing over her stretch marks and her birthmark. It makes me want to believe that last night was real and to open my eyes.
Because I don't want to.
"Don't want to do what?" Raven rasped, placing a firm hand on my chest. "And why didn't you close the curtains?"
"Open my eyes," I admitted.
Laughing under her breath, the small giggles cut through the air as if it came through a speaker while she climbed onto me. "What an interesting way to say Good morning and how'd you sleep?" I felt her nails dig into my torso and I hissed. "I'm sore but I slept great. How about you?" Sleep still lingers in her voice but she moves like a seductress, slowly rocking into my growing erection. "Still sleepy Luciano?" The tips of her fingers touch my pelvic tattoo: Fortis fortuna adiuvat. It was an action she's done so many times but it still spreads a unique feeling throughout my body. "I'm cool with staying in bed all day."
I take the risk; I open my eyes.
Relief. I was filled with it when I saw her. With a head full of tight curls that's been pulled into a messy bun, Raven's big eyes remind me of a solar eclipse and I can't look away. This is real.
