Use With Caution

I inhale deeply - my arms are elasticity. The air rushes into me, through me and it is me. I lean heavily against the wall. I am catapulted into pure sensory overdrive. I sit now, in my inky black pool of dead thoughts, and think, how much of what spewed out of his mouth....were lies? The thought, once released, bashes around inside my head. It echoes, like a lone voice in a canyon; desperate to be heard. I allow it prowess. It carries on...LIES..Lies.......lies, it taunts. I am already immersed in new questions; new sensations, this black self-awareness is medicinal and I'm emotionally nauseous. It is every insecurity allowed free reign. It is his eyes not quite catching mine, even with his cock inside me. I shift uncomfortably, little itchy spiders up my back. I am not quite caught up as my breath is hit from me again, a new thought overtakes the last. Can it be true, that his smile didn't fill him, right to his eyes; in a long time or only the end? Is that me, my, his.....her fault? I shrug, eyes closed - muscle memory of orgasms and ignorance. Next to me, I feel her sit heavily, air gone...phfft. I feel her as she looks at me. I keep my eyes closed. Lookie...lookie. My eyes are too heavy. And, childishly, if I can't see her, she does not exist. Ah...but, she's there. Tangible, but never real, no. I am about to press open my eyes, my forefinger and thumb pressed together in readiness. My hand falls, numb beside my torso, slack as another orgasm slides in from under me. I rock gently, as his teeth tease my nipples, each one in turn. Hardened little fuckers of denial, they stand in readiness and I can smell I am betrayed. I feel a tug in my womb, an echo. Bitch that I am, I admit I am arrogant in complacency. I feel my toes curl, a nervous twitch tickles the undersides of my knees. I half turn toward her, away from his mouth on my neck. My hair is smothering me. I want to hack it off. Like trees in woods that keep me from seeing, they whisper with life. An eyelid flickers, I can feel I am almost free of the tangle. Then his mouth is on mine, his tongue glorious with confidence, reaches inside me. I arch my back and feel strength in my bones. I hear my heartbeat, shadowed. Dumdum..dum. Dumdum...dum. The soft cry of ecstasy is distracting. Perhaps deliberately so. I try to see his eyes, between orgasms, breasts and hair. I take my hands and hold them up, to cup his face. To see him. He maneuvers away, tugs at my hair, finds the heart inside my heat and rubs it so gently. These flickers are the ending of a movie. I know I've watched it, but as I miss the ending, somehow my own heart synchronizes. A steady...dum dum. The race under control, I open my eyes, and hold his head firmly, while I see him. "Say it," I tell him, I demand; "Say it!" The deepest black is penetrated as my entire being looks into his eyes. He smiles, persuasively and says, "I love you..only you..." And I explode.

It is day, the air bitter with a biting cold that snarls around my nipples, my breasts tired. It is clear, the air rushing into stale lungs, I inhale the last of his scent and his lie. The rain starts gently as I glance to the ground for confirmation, almost frantic. There is a dry patch, a space big enough to shield a person. I know she was here. While he was. I know there is no-one now. I am alone. I have been alone for a long time. I wait for the panic. It does not come, and I exhale loudly; spent. For a brief moment I wish I had never found the strength to look at him, see him, feel him - know him. My eyes are open, navy pinpricks of concentration. I look at the tiny vial I numbly discarded on the cement in my back garden. The name is very clearly marked on the little bottle:

CLARITY - Use With Caution

As I straighten my clothes, I hear the sound of children's laughter, from somewhere inside the house. There is a steady drizzle now, it hides an uncaught tear. I look out into the world as I guiltily pocket the small vial. Deep inside Mommy pockets. Every molecule in the atmosphere is alive. The laughter rings again, it is enchanting. An acceptable enchantment. I go inside, knowing I need more than want, a tiny ampule to remember - for as long as I can. An addictive loop of three words and orgasm - not real, but necessary to cope. I've never been one for warning labels and while prevention may be better than cure, I can't undo loss. I can't fix it. So, I visit it.