Say It's All Right, Part III

But there was blood on the fingers I laid on his left cheek, and no scratch whatsoever on the latter.
A snap of broken wood echoed just behind us. Footsteps on humus.
A hand reached me from behind, sneaking from my hip to my chest with a deliberate tenderness, lifting me from the ground with an awkwardness that felt natural to me. Same old moves, resilience of the weak. Compassion dawned on my reflection on the ground. A look of consent for the other behind me too. And I did not want to see. But his left hand rustled up against my ribs and to my face, caressed my chin with an unconscious manliness that let a ghastly shiver run away through my hair. And his fingertips pressed the cold skin of my right cheek with longing excitement to turn my face to itself again. Mirror palace.
Still. Next to the goatish smile, under the watery eyes : no scratch. No blood. Just his breath flowing in through my half opened mouth. Sugary. Thirst.
The beat of my heart in the silent woods. Twice the likeness of my own eyes, intent on my fear and desire. Wantonness. The one on the ground stood up, and came near us, put one hand on my arm, the other on the third’s shoulder, trembling at the delight of our skins colliding, microscopic synergy of fully compatible cells. Run away. And yet, I wanted it to happen, I wanted to feel it. My eyes looking hard into mine, and the lips whispering:
“You.”
Brisk and dry like the flutter of an owl. And the other:
“You.”
From behind a bush:
“You”
And in the shade of a tree:
“You”
White wings slapped the air, circled around me, closer and closer. You. You. You. A head emerged from a bush, fingers from behind a trunk, feet climbing down a tree. You. You. You. One of them, on the cheek: a scratch, blood, soon lost in the endless pattern of my face.
“You.”
Run away.
“You.”
Give me more.
“You.”
Lips, moist against my neck,
“Breathe.”
Against my chest,
“Breathe again.”
Down my abdomen,
“Pray for more”
Cotton skies getting darker, blue and grey with the setting of a long forgotten sun,
“Don’t leave me.”
Car speeding past me with the startling whoosh of a racing spaceship,
“Don’t leave me.”
Endless stream of skies cloudy, empty, foggy, grey, blue, white, black, racing over fields and towns, houses and lives, homes and hells,
“Help me.”
Secrets and fun, silence and intimacy, cars speeding past their lives, a thousand lips, the same flavor,
“Help me.”
A thousand looks that mean what was never said, people speeding past my way, overdosing teenager in the wood by the road,
“Leave me.”
Falling out of consciousness, and into my own hands. I alone, closing my own eyes,
“Kill me.”
Shading the passing skies, and speeding cars, fluttering owls, secret people…
Dark.

And then I wake up, one of them.