Många gånger förstår jag inte vad jag försöker säga mig själv.
"Varför inte?"
Hon ler av berusning, men hennes ord studsar långt bort i havet av människor. Vi rör oss som vågor genom en tidlös plats. Musiken är allt vi ser när vi tar oss allt längre in i det häpnadsväckande mörkret.
Jag ler åt henne. Mer behövs inte göras när alkoholen gjort henne mjuk. Jag tar henne i mina armar när vi dansar längre in. Längre in.
Jag bryter ögonkontakten och lutar huvudet uppåt. Jag sluter mina ögon och hör pipet som uppstår när musiken dunkar för högt. Jag andas och tar på hennes hår. Jag gungar fram och tillbaka. Inget finns. Bara nu. Men då söker upp mig igen och jag flyr. Jag tar tag om hennes hår med ett fast grepp. Jag böjer mig ner och känner hennes läppar mot mina. Världen snurrar.
Vi säger ingenting. Jag hör ingenting. Jag glömmer.
Jag ser mig om i havet, jag känner inte igen någon längre. Det snurrar. Ljusen sänder budskap jag inte orkar förstå. När jag blundar ser jag ditt leende. Jag kan inte minnas flickan i mitt grepp. Jag kan inte se hennes ansikte. Jag minns dig. Nej.
Jag glömmer.
söndagen den 12:e december 2010
lördagen den 4:e december 2010
onsdagen den 1:e december 2010
Afterwards
He felt her eyes wander up and down his thin body. Her glare was partly scaring him and partly seducing his insecure mind. He couldn’t understand why she had this impact on him.
“Well,” she said, tasting her cigarette, “you should leave now anyway”
Suddenly the warmth from the fire turned as cold as the ice dangling from the window outside. Freezing water was suddenly filling up his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. His body was cold, shivering, lying naked on the curve in the arctic blizzard, with the eager hail crushing his skin.
She must have seen his look of despair for shortly afterwards she stated:
“I would give you a cigarette but I don’t have many left. You’re too young for those sorts of things anyway”
He just nodded. Looking down at his pale skin, shining in the light of the fire his thoughts were lost. The boy looked up and watched the woman in front of him. She sat on her stool, the nightgown falling perfectly over her body. Her hair was carelessly pulled back; leaving some strings of hair hang as they pleased. Her smoking was carefree; she herself was nonchalant, both to herself and the boy. She was looking out the window, as if she was looking for something, longing for someone. A lover trapped in time, lost but never forgotten.
She inhaled the poisonous smoke one last time, and then leaned over to stub out the glowing piece of venom. The only part of her left on the stick was the red marks of lipstick colouring its tip. Somehow this reminded him of their relationship. As she stood she sighed, walking toward the terrified young man.
“Sweetie,” she said, caressing his cheek with her red nails “you knew what this was”
He did. She leaned over and kissed his lips once more, so tenderly. Just as if he would break if she were to be too harsh. His black hair against the white skin made him look like a perfect doll, made to please her, not himself. Her breath smelled of smoke, but it felt lovely in his mouth. She padded him on his shoulder. She turned around, picked up another smoke and put it to her lips. He faced her back when she stepped away, looking out the window. She crouched, lighting her second cigarette. She blew out the smoke, straightening up.
“Have I made myself clear?” her voice was harder now, no baby talk
“Yes”
“Well,” she said, tasting her cigarette, “you should leave now anyway”
Suddenly the warmth from the fire turned as cold as the ice dangling from the window outside. Freezing water was suddenly filling up his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. His body was cold, shivering, lying naked on the curve in the arctic blizzard, with the eager hail crushing his skin.
She must have seen his look of despair for shortly afterwards she stated:
“I would give you a cigarette but I don’t have many left. You’re too young for those sorts of things anyway”
He just nodded. Looking down at his pale skin, shining in the light of the fire his thoughts were lost. The boy looked up and watched the woman in front of him. She sat on her stool, the nightgown falling perfectly over her body. Her hair was carelessly pulled back; leaving some strings of hair hang as they pleased. Her smoking was carefree; she herself was nonchalant, both to herself and the boy. She was looking out the window, as if she was looking for something, longing for someone. A lover trapped in time, lost but never forgotten.
She inhaled the poisonous smoke one last time, and then leaned over to stub out the glowing piece of venom. The only part of her left on the stick was the red marks of lipstick colouring its tip. Somehow this reminded him of their relationship. As she stood she sighed, walking toward the terrified young man.
“Sweetie,” she said, caressing his cheek with her red nails “you knew what this was”
He did. She leaned over and kissed his lips once more, so tenderly. Just as if he would break if she were to be too harsh. His black hair against the white skin made him look like a perfect doll, made to please her, not himself. Her breath smelled of smoke, but it felt lovely in his mouth. She padded him on his shoulder. She turned around, picked up another smoke and put it to her lips. He faced her back when she stepped away, looking out the window. She crouched, lighting her second cigarette. She blew out the smoke, straightening up.
“Have I made myself clear?” her voice was harder now, no baby talk
“Yes”
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