Monday, April 18, 2011

Press Down

What would you do if I kissed you?

You asked that later, but I wish you'd whispered it in my ear then.  I'm afraid it was much more of a turn-on then than it would be now.  The knife I mean, not the question.  I'm almost curious as to what effect that would have on me now, given the twelve months that have since elapsed.  I haven't thought about that night in a while.  Nor anything associated with it, really, for that matter.  It's hard to believe because it's really not one of those nights that one can forget.

It was pitch black.  We'd just broken six glass bottles.  The shattering glass on the cold concrete was mesmerizing somehow.  Even just the sound was enough of a release to keep coming back.  Smashing glass is better than morphine.  It numbs the pain and overwhelms the senses.  I miss those nights when it was just warm enough to be outside but not quite enough to stay still for a praticularly long time.  But that was one of those nights, the smell of which brings me back instantly. 

And we sat down on that bench that was still there (I don't think either of us knows to this day why it was torn out or by whom).  It was a nice place to have a bench and as I took a deep breath in, I felt a blade press into the skin of my throat.  It was a challenge almost.  A dare.  Would you?  How deep could you press, how much would you trust yourself with my blood?

It was just enough to be a turn-on, not yet enough for me to really be afraid.  I can't believe I remembered the exact phrasing of the question without looking back at chat logs.  But I guess it is the sort of thing that sticks in my head. 

It's not like you can really be all that far away while holding a knife at someone's thorat.

Is that why you were so close?  I wonder what I would have done if you had.  But after all, it was only a month.  How much of a difference did that month even make in the long run?  On the grand scale of things, did it matter that it took a month for you to get around your hypothetical?  Or maybe it just helped to set up a pattern that became easier for me to trace. 

Hypothetical.
One month later, actualized.
Hypothetical.
One month later, actualized.

I guess we'll see how well that pattern holds.  I've always wondered why you didn't do it earlier.  Why you kissed me when you did because we both know you had a couple hundred chances in those lonely nights when temptation ran rampant and tore viciously at the reins of self-restraint.  I almost wonder that I didn't do it sooner.  But that doesn't surprise me as much.  I promised myself that it would have to be you and in the end it was.  You asked me not to let you mess it up with anyone and I didn't...for the most part anyway. 

I managed to keep that up until the very end.  Or was it the beginning?  I'm not so sure anymore.

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