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Make Believe

My attempt at stream of consciousness …

Make Believe

I felt so close to him there, my body pressed against him. I could feel the warmth and his strong steady heartbeat I slightly tightened my grip around his broad neck and shoulders. Love was prominent in his strong grip around my waist, I felt it. I glanced up at his face his strong jaw line and his dimpled chin were all I could see well. His neck and jaw line were covered in small dark stubble. He was so beautiful so beautiful lying there, eyes closed, softly breathing in and out, through his nose drifting in and out of sleep. I wanted to squeeze him so tight that I could somehow fall into him, sinking underneath his skin, where we could somehow be one        forever. His eyes were a beautiful hazel blue that shimmered in the low light of my dark bedroom as if pools of shallow azure. I took one of his hands in mine and held it on his chest. Slowly running my fingertips over his rough, dry fingers, I brought his ring finger to my lips and kissed it. I ran his finger down my bottom lip which tugged on it a little bit so that my inner lip was running along his ring finger until I got to the tip and I just kissed it, bringing the top between my lips and slightly into my mouth and pulling it out again. I felt his body shake and shiver with delight – he loved it, I know he did. He ran his fingers through my soft, blonde hair with his other hand, caressing my scalp. I wanted him to know that I was holding onto him, holding on for dear life. I believed I loved him. I was going to make him believe it too.

I felt so far from her there my body pressed against another. Would she know? Could she ever know the grief I felt having another girl lie against me in her bed. The light was dark and it was difficult to make out her face. I couldn’t see her, there was no way she could see me. So I let the first tear slide out of the corner of my eye, crawl across my temple and into my ear. My eardrum heard the drop of the tear into my lobe and it rang a loud warning, sending chills throughout my body. Who was this girl? Did I even know her? Her face was soft, but it wasn’t my girl. No, she had left me – no, I had left her … we had left each other just six short weeks ago. I wanted to squeeze this girl so tight – so tight that I could sink into her, be one with her for a split second pass through her and be out on the other side where I could somehow be happy again, still hearing her voice call to me, in my ear, where my dry, somber tears were now falling. My body kept shivering. Stop it. Stop, pull it together, man, she’s going to know something’s wrong I don’t want to hear her voice … Let’s pretend. I’m going to pretend. Close my eyes and think it’s mine kissing my finger where there ought to be a ring, sliding her fingertips between my fingers. Not this girl, not tonight. So I ran my fingers through my beloved’s silky black hair and made love to her that night even though I knew … It was already over. I had to pretend to make myself believe that it was her …


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