Kiss Me Hard Before You Go :: Under the Covers Sunday

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Keep Art Alive :: Art by Jonathan Viner

Summertime Sadness (live at BBC Radio 1) :: Rizzle Kicks

An excerpt from my work-in-progress (written to a character playlist which includes the original version of this song):

Troy has fallen asleep on Robert’s pile of clothes by the closet, curled up amongst a pile of jackets and corduroy pants. He is using torn jeans and a few wadded up concert t-shirts as his blanket and pillow. Sleep comes like that lately, sudden and slamming into me. Before I can stop it all consciousness is gone. So many hours of lacking those deep moments of sleep when things become clearer, you can only go without for so long. But when you are running from clarity and truth, the lie of awake is phenomenally addictive.

I should go home. My Mom will wonder where I am; not worry, but she will wonder. She will just make up her own drama filled conclusion that I will wince at and I don’t want to leave. I watch Robert and his sleepy eye stare. I just want to bend and fold into a miniature me, disappear into the curve of his spine, and float around inside of him. There are no words that can make this true enough, this moment, the pull he has on my every pore.

“Do you want to stay?” He asks shyly, which is so not like Robert. He reaches for the light switch, motioning towards me with this monumental warmth. There is absolutely nowhere worth knowing that I would rather be right now, not anywhere.

We climb into his bed. It is a double, expensive mattress covered with the softest sheets. His has the scent of clean, of newborn babies, and safety. He opens up the blanket and envelops me in them, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me in close. I lay my head on his chest. I can feel his every intake of breath, the soft murmur of his heartbeat., it is intoxicating. I can feel my entire body suddenly collapse.

“You should sleep more, Louise, you and Troy both. I don’t understand it, the way you chase around, running from the night. I love sleep.” He kisses the top of my head softly.

“It’s just…it’s just, like, so hard sometimes.” I choke on the words. I can feel the sting of possible tears hanging precariously in the balance of my eyelashes. I blink twice, and let them fall.

“What is?” He asks, not looking at me, but looking just the same.

“Everything.” I whisper.

He knows things. I know he does. I can tell by the gentle way he is with me, so careful. He touches me as if I am something fragile and new.

“You know, you and I are all he has.” He was whispering now, too, following my lead.

“I know.” I nod.
I want to say they are all I have, too. Well, the two of them, and Andie, when she is not fed up with the all of me. I know I have her, though, even when she thinks she hates me. I want to tell him I love him in this huge, encompassing kind of way. But the words just refuse to come out. This kind of truth is jagged and raw, and will open too many doors, each one with possible hidden traps inside. But I feel it for him, a beyond my age kind of love. I know this is not something fleeting. This is that thing in my heart that will probably end me someday.

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Keep Art Alive :: Art by Jonathan Viner

<em>Summertime Sadness :: Lana Del Rey
from the album, Born to Die

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