Twenty Two 03.06.10

Your perfume came in the mail today, I could smell it before I opened the box; that intoxicating scent, forever bound to you in my memory, wound through the cracks in the cardboard and haunted me. Teasing my heart, it conjured your image and suddenly I was tearing through the stubborn box like a feral cat tearing into a fresh kill. The ampules and drams rolled delicately in the box, clinking like suspended cubes of ice. These were more precious to me now than diamonds. But they will not stay with me for long. Five of them will be given away. I will let them go and hopefully, they will find their way to you. Just the same way I am hoping your heart will find its way back to me.

I rolled them in my hand, testing the their weight, feeling the cool smoothness of their espresso colored glass in the whiteness of my palm. One found its home in my fist, gingerly but firmly clutching it to my breast. The rest I returned to their bubble wrap and cardboard nest. With steady fingers I unscrewed the dram, letting its essence escape like a genie uncorked from a bottle. I "slit" my right wrist, passing the whisper of scent from the gaping mouth of the dram over my star tattoo. The fragrance kissed my skin and clung to it as I replaced the cover on the dram. I closed my eyes and brought the inside of my wrist to my face.

Nostalgia, thick and sweet as white honey or molasses, poured over me as I gorged myself on the familiar smell. Every time you drew out that dram and brought it to your neck, you wrists, your breasts, coursed through my mind. My heart swelled and my cunt stirred. I miss you with a sweet kind of aching. Like the pulse of a bruise as it heals, just at the point where the pain of the tender flesh gives way to an odd sensation of pleasure, I am pushing on the wound. I found my stomach reeling and my mouth begins to water. I crave your kiss: deep, languid, and soul quenching.

Do you remember the way it feels to kiss me? Do you remember the way I used to tremble in your arms each time your tongue would glide over mine? The way I would gasp at the pinch of your teeth on my bottom lip, the way I used to cradle your jaw in my hands drawing your face to my lips, drawing your breath into my lungs. Do you remember that holy communion between our souls as they melded and I felt my heart melt love into my soul? Do you ache for me the same way I ache for you? This smell is comforting me, it is pulling me back to a place of love and hope, grounding me here. So long as I can remember these memories, the sights and sounds of you that this perfume evokes I will stay here.

Imagine my surprise the other morning when you texted me, out of the blue. Your words were even more curious: "Read your letter. Will try to answer some of your questions this weekend. This has not been easy, and is still not easy for me. Thank you for dropping off my things." My heart leapt at the words. You were talking to me. Could it be, you were attempting to communicate with me? To allow me some insight to be able to understand you? You told me you didn't feel obligated to respond, and that you did not and could never resent me. And then, you were gone. Sixteen hours later and I have no idea what you meant by that. I am giving you time, all the time you need to approach me.

And I want you to know, when you are ready, I will receive your words with ears that now truly listen. They are unblocked by pride and defensive walls that bend the sound away from your real meaning and turn it into pain I can react to blindly and lash out at. I now possess new ears, the better to hear you with my dear, no longer your big "bad" wolf, but your gentle companion one that wishes to hear your voice and calmly hear all that you have to say. I am waiting for you to speak your mind and heart and know that I want to hear you, really hear you. I am waiting to listen with my heart which still beats your name. And as I wait, I inhale your lingering scent, basking in the unadulterated joy it brings me.