| "Write about boobs." two beers, two cigarettes and two doors albums later, this is what i have. |
[Apr. 25th, 2008|02:47 am] |
seated across from him, she wondered how it was he had drawn her to begin with. it couldn't have been his face, about which she could make neither besotted declarations nor scathing remarks. after months of collecting evidence that he lived, she found herself unconvinced that it mattered at all.
"what?" he asked, wrinkling his brow in unknowing rebellion against her physical assessment of him.
people changed, she knew. knew every second brought new sense-confronting details to morph minds closer, close to last thoughts before death. and faces, they flinched, smiled wrinkled and sagged, and his was no exception.
it was smiling now, lips unsealing to draw in the breath to say.. no, just to breathe, and to expose the yellow tint to his teeth. but now, now to say, "you keep looking at me. what are you thinking? what are you looking for?"
she tried to choose her words with care, but couldn't locate care enough for success.
"a reason not to write you off," she said, moving only her lips and the tip of her tongue. she imagined no effect on her inevitable corpse; this was not a man who could scar or soothe.
its own lips thinned, tugging smile into grimace-threatening shadow. he didn't wear disappointment well, his face seemed to say. but he could change; it was changing already, forming a wrinkle between his eyes that preluded a chuckle hairs shy of charming.
"well i'm thinking about your breasts."
she twitched. "typical." she froze.
"yep," he drawled. and droll-ed. and drank, creating waves in his cup to drain with his mouth, changing shapes in his cheeks and in canals to other parts of him.
"you drew me," she said, willing more than his bladder to be receptive in him. "drew my form with your eyes. four months ago. you traced me out, and i've been tracing you ever since."
"you sound like a crazy bitch." his brow wrinkled, smoothed, moving his eyes to crinkle and harden. "i don't remember you though. must've been staring at your chest."
"you keep changing," she huffed, shoulders lifting a notch and falling past perception. "your face. and your tone of voice."
"people change," he shrugged.
"i know," her face spat, contorting with enthusiasm. she cupped her breasts. "these change, too."
"now we're getting somewhere!"
"don't hoot."
he held his hands out, mimicries of peace, face transmuted to reflect helplessness.
"this is meaningless," she realized even as she spoke the words. "you keep changing, but not in ways that i particularly like."
his shoulders stilled as he realized on his own. "you are bat-shit crazy insane."
the assumption compelled her to thrust truth upon him. "you can't change me!" her face opened, then crumpled, rounded eyes and widened mouth closing in on themselves with the expulsion of words.
"damn right about that," he muttered, to himself but for her, and stood up. walked away. grew smaller. disappeared.
that night, she brought her hands to her breasts once again. when she squeezed them, she felt she was wringing her lungs, and cried despite her difficulty with breath. |
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drunk