Sweet Dream, Bedtime Terror
To be kissed by something so beautiful, something so free, and so diverse, that your cheek pushes back desperately against it,
With an equal and opposite force
Just so that you can feel the soft firmness of those lips
Press and sink into your jawbone
Eyes closed, smelling the scent of flowers and green,
Feeling the velvet wings flap against your skin,
Exhaling with a faint vibrato, you release yourself
With the kiss still tingling, lingering on your mind
You open your eyes, just to watch it flutter away.
You desire and long and yearn for it to stay
But you curl your bottom lip under your front teeth
And hold a gun up to your aspiration.
Don’t you dare say anything.
How dare you cage anything with wings.
It was always meant to fly away…but I’m grateful to have even felt it
Because I know what it feels like to be kissed by a moth.
To be touched by something so hideous, and so masculine
That you jerk away from it
So fast that the elasticity of your jaws, is too slow to keep up with your cheek bones,
So the inner flesh slaps the outside of your teeth.
To try to wipe it away, so hard that you burn and discolor your face
And the feeling of its hairy figure lies deep, like a dimple.
Disgust sits on your tongue, and you gag as you attempt to swallow your spit.
Your eyes wide open, you stare it down, not up and down, just down.
Breath locked in chest
Hoping, wishing, praying for it to fly away,
And it does, because something so contagiously ill and sick HAS to go spread its infection elsewhere
And ugly someone else’s beautiful innocence
And when it is done, when it has soured and curdled your dreams,
When it has taken your intestines and shaken them in closed fists it leaves promptly
And you breathe heavily,
But you won’t tell. You won’t ever tell.
You’re too shocked, and too scared to say anything,
And too broken to piece it all together.
How dare you expose such embarrassment.
How dare you admit to such weak vulnerability.
Stories so obnoxious should be kept in a book, and the pages should only be used to catch tears as they fall, but never read aloud
Because those bedtime stories often cause bedtime terrors.
So when a little girl looks up at you, and asks you what happened that day,
I want you to look her in the eyes, smile, like nothing ever happened, and say it flew away.
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