Keep Art Alive :: Art by Malcolm Liepke
“Well, it’s not that I don’t love you,
I’ll love you honey till I die.”
Jeff brought a cluster of roses to her door, tin foil wrapped condom tight around the thorns for protection. He had snipped them carefully, one by one, from the moonlit side of the churchyard, careful to not touch the petals with his skin, recalling his Grandmother’s warning that sometimes touch wilts beauty. He clutched them now behind his back, all wrapped up and ready, as he rang Laney’s doorbell.
They were as red as her lipstick, as red as the blood on his finger tips from the thorn cuts, as red as the burn he feels for her in the pit of his stomach, as red as all this desire.
He rang again, and again and again. The silent response as he stood there with the roses and the wanting, well, Jeff had been expecting it every day since they met. He had wanted to be wrong though, had wanted to capture this beautiful thing and call it his own.
Jeff left the roses on her doorstep, replacing the space they had taken in his left hand with the cold grip of his Father’s gun. He knows where to go now, what he will find there, what comes next. The shadow cast a stain on the road behind as he walked, eyes blurring, burning like his insides, as the sun crept up up up into the wicked early morning sky.
He had only wanted to her to be his. He had only wanted to save her.
You Gotta Sin to be Saved :: Maria McKee