Open Wounds and Salty Skin
it was like salt to a wound...
"Just so we're clear," you say, "this didn't mean anything." I nod. It's a distracted sort of nod, but agreeable nonetheless. You look away from my silent gaze. outside beyond these walls the world is at peace with itself. The still silence of winter. a distant creek drizzles. the death cold waters of the Big South Fork. I find solace in the rustling leaves, tossed about by unheard winds.
I startle back at the weight of your hand on my shoulder. The moist touch of your lips to my cheek. you're looking down at me now and I fight the instincts to turn away. But your hands are cupping my face, holding it steadily in place. "Hey, I love you." you say and I snicker at the stupidity of it all. But i'm watching the tears form within your eyes and feel your hands begin to shiver. I draw you down to me and I feel your body as it sighs. "I love you too." I say. but its like salt to an open wound. Maybe I was too sympathetic, I think, as I shove you from me. It was a knee jerk reaction, fueled by alcohol and rage. youre on the floor and crying softly, I toss you some cash, "just so we're clear. this didn't mean anything." And I walk away quickly before the tears fall. I can still smell you on my skin...it's like salt to a wound