Tempest Part II

The day was dark, and all one could hear was the wind as it howled and tried to blow the trees back into the earth. The rain lashed against the ground carving out rivulets as the thunder boomed overhead.
Vivienne was sleeping on the deck.
Krista sat beside her.
The heavy clank of the game pieces as they moved across the board added to the symphony of general noise around her. Her clothes were damp from the rain as it leaked and seeped onto the wood of the porch, traveling forward searching for a target to acquire.
The rain had found her, for she was sitting in front of Vivienne as a barrier.
White knight took black rook. Black pawn took white knight. The game was a front, really, for it’s hard to play by yourself unless you’re really good. Krista wasn’t, but this way, she could keep watching.
Vivienne was sleeping on the deck.
Krista sat beside her.
Theo was in the house.
The rain kept pouring down with no intention of stopping.
She had no idea why they hadn’t moved inside when the storm started. Vivienne had wanted to keep on with the game, and had smiled as she always does. In that strange way that made Krista want to kiss her.
She loved Vivienne’s sincere smiles, for they were soft to the point of wanting to wrap them around your shoulders and fall asleep. Not the slight ones she always had imprinted on her mouth, for Vivienne seemed always resigned to whatever fate God handed out to her that day.
Adam called Vivienne a saint. Krista called her an angel.
Vivienne was an angel to her, and it didn’t seem fair that Theo got to keep her all to himself.
That wasn’t fair at all.
This wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be, for it was too old a feeling to be named. She hated Theo with a passion because of this. People shouldn’t own angels.
The black queen took the white queen. The white king fell down with an audible thud on the board.
Vivienne was sleeping on the deck, her hair undone to bury her face under a cascade of ochre.
Krista sat beside her, slowly leaning forward to brush Vivienne’s hair away to reveal her lips.
It was something stupid that should never have happened, but it had opened a small door in her heart. She played back her favorite dream of a memory, in which she hoped Vivienne had kissed her. That day when she’d woken up, she was so embarrassed that she ran away immediately.
Vivienne was sleeping on the deck.
Krista was beside her as she leaned down and kissed Vivienne.
Theo stood in the doorway and watched.
Krista looked up and saw him after the kiss had ended.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked. Krista didn’t move as he walked over to her and wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her up. She couldn’t think. She had no space left in her brain as he led her back into the house, both of them leaving Vivienne on the deck, still sleeping.
Vivienne was sleeping on the deck.
Krista and Theo were in the house.
He led her to a chair and she sat down. She watched him as he pulled the camcorder down from the wall and ripped the tape from it, shredding all the evidence.
“Do you hate me?” she finally asked.
He turned toward her and smiled softly, just like Vivienne always did.
“Why would I hate you?”
“I hate you, though,” she whispered. “I hate you so much. It’s not fair that you get to monopolize her. Why is she yours?”
“That’s good to know.”
He laughed softly as he turned and set the camcorder back into place. Then he turned to her.
“Krista. Do you love her?”
“What?”
The question dropped like a bomb, tearing through her in an instant. She hit him, hard. She heard the tearing of flesh as her nails gouged his face, leaving marks she knew would sting deep.
“That’s a good answer,” he laughed, and she turned and ran. She was running as far as her legs could take her, for she didn’t need to know this. She didn’t need to open the badly sealed hole in her heart.
Vivienne was on the deck, awake as her heart was slowly being shredded.
Theo was in the house, laughing wildly as tears ran down his bleeding cheeks.
Krista was running through the yard and out onto the street as she felt the ground crack beneath her.
And the rain kept pouring down, like it was the end of the world as the thunder boomed overhead.

Tempest Part I

I want to be hit
by lightning
and feel the flash of pain
as a burning realization of thunder
sets in upon my skin.

The Birds of Paradise Part II

All children grow up. That’s a fact of life.
You grew up too fast, I think, maybe because my life spun wildly out of control every now and then, causing me to neglect you and our friendship.
I can still remember when I fell in love with you.
You’d just turned nineteen.
Everybody else had just left for home, and you were sleeping on the porch, the wind blowing through your hair, a tangled mass of black that swirled around you, creating abstract patterns against the wood.
You were sleeping, and I did something stupid.
I used to play games in my head when I was a kid, where I would create a new world in which things were the way I wanted them to be.
I wanted you to be mine. And with that desire in mind, for I couldn’t get rid of it, I slowly let myself bend forward until our heads were touching.
You were perfect like the image of a painting, features symmetrically aligned in an attempt to ensnare and seduce.
I did something stupid.
I don’t remember making the decision, or moving to act. All I know is that I kissed you, and that was a stupid idea.
You were soft and sweet, just like a china doll with the red lips, white skin, and black hair all tangled up with mine, creating an earthy mix. You didn’t stir or make any sign that you’d woken up. I felt like my heart was going to burst into a thousand pieces any second.
Any second now, and I was going to be punished for my sins.
“Vivienne.”
I looked up with a start and saw Theo watching me from the doorway.
“Has everyone left?” I asked.
“Yes.” He smiled softly, like he always did.
“Do you hate me, Theo?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, even though I wanted to bite my tongue off and swallow it. Maybe then I could keep my mouth from acting on its own.
Theo was always smiling. He was always laughing, just like he was now. Almost like we weren’t married and he hadn’t just seen me kiss my best friend.
“Why would I hate you, Vivienne?’ he asked. “You’ve got a more logical reason to hate me.”
“Why would I hate you, Theo?” I asked.
He was already gone, though, leaving me there stunned, you still asleep beside me. Although thinking back, you could have been awake, seeing as I lost track of how long I sat there in shock.
“Hey Viv.”
I looked back and you were getting up. Your hair shielded your face so I couldn’t read your expression. “I’m gonna go, so I’ll see you later.”
“Alright.” And with that, you were gone as well, the screen door creaking shut behind you.
I don’t know how long I remained on the deck, wind pulling my hair free and your voice dancing in my ears, but eventually Yoselin dragged me inside to play dolls with her and Helena.
I needed to talk to Theo. I needed to bury myself in a pot and slam the lid on so nothing could escape. I needed to wake up and realize that I was in love with you.
I was in love with you.
I was in love with two people, and even now, I had no idea that they would both leave me so soon.

The Birds of Paradise Part I

I want to see you
laughing,
just like your ghost
as she whispers in my ear
of a memory I silenced
and my enjoyment of
staining the two of us
red, with a ticket
down to hell.

You're a Movie Part II

I loved to play with camcorders.
It was the act of creating something permanent, something that could outlast me and the wishy-washy attitude I carried around with me like a fashionable handbag.
I’d set them up in random areas around the house. Then I waited to see how long it would take for people to find them, and what shots I could get before I had to take them down. My brothers would complain loudly to our parents when they discovered that I’d ‘accidentally’ taped parts of their experimentations with girls.
Film was my form of adolescent rebellion.
I kept it toned down, though, because as girl, I wasn’t supposed to have a large presence.
The camcorder is the perfect woman. She’s soft and compact and never speaks. She’s silent, as she listens to the world around her and takes note of everything that happens.
The dutiful, perfect wife.
And film was my lover until I got married at nineteen.
Now I sit back and watch the memories as they play over and over again on the small television screen in the dark.
I did something stupid and Theo forgave me, though Krista wasn’t as gentle. I watch my mistakes over and over with a dulled passion for justice.
It was stupid to try and attempt to keep those feelings of mine hidden, but I did and I tried to become a camcorder. The perfect woman for Theo when we got married.
Theo was a crystal statue’s lover as he touched me tenderly as to not cause me to shatter. He was too gentle as his presence slowly ingrained into and over my flesh. I loved the fact that eventually the only thing trapped in his vision was my reflection.
I was in love with Theo, there’s no question about that. I loved being near him, and the way we were together. Sometimes I pull out his tapes from their space under the stairs and watch them, trying to imagine that he’s still alive and with me, as opposed to lying in the graveyard up the hill. That’s the only way I can physically meet him now. When I go up the hill once a day and spread flowers across his tombstone.
I was in love with Theo, and he was in love with me, yet it was never enough.
It was never enough, but I could always hide that desire underneath the skin of a bubbling mountain, ready to explode. Krista and Theo left before my alarm could go off, though.
The one clip I watch over and over is the moment I let myself fall into hell. When I leaned over and stole a kiss from Krista while Theo was watching.

You're a Movie Part I

You’re a movie
as the camera rolls
and quakes beneath the fear
of failing.

Wounded

I suck back the blood
and try to heal the wounds,
try to paste over the scars that
burn red, struggle pink and shudder
in the hot element of sinister design.
I long to touch the fog, taste
the sugar of the glass and peel the sticky shell
of the music off my pale skin, in hopes
of a small, round little glitter, glimmer and shine
of a greeting among familiar faces
I still wish
for a smile perched upon the wing of
lost movement in motion, blue heather
on the hilltops, gray ice within the
shallow hidden heart I carry clutched to me,
and black, faded ecstasy on the stairs.

I can only feel the red though.