mapping the moon

That moment when you realize you feel nothing anymore & the power you've had all along.

the night is sticky & wet. she breathes it in & feels as though scalding water is being forced down her throat & into her lungs; she wills herself not to drown. not yet. she has awaited his return for days, or is it months years maybe just hours? she isn't sure; time has no effect in this place. she had heard mumblings whispers accusations, of what he was like now. she believes them but sometimes, sometimes .... she places who he is now inside her memories & denial sweeps over her body, filling her fingers & toes with such a numbing sweetness. but now she is here standing in his doorway, drenched in anxiety & heat within the present. he looks at her & despite everything she has heard seen felt since his absence, she is convinced it cannot be true as the innocence seeps from his eyes & pools at her feet on the cold hardwood floor. it has been four years & yet mingled with the stifling familiarity is a welcome air of tension & discomfort. he smiles suddenly & she bites back the haughty retorts & insults that are snaking into her throat; they can wait for now. the dark wood frame creaks as she takes her place beside him & the sound seems to echo dangerously around the room, refusing to be saturated by the neutral wallpaper. their ears prickle with sensitivity , waiting to hear if they have awakened the world. she senses by the twitch in his arms that he is debating on whether or not he should touch her. & she is thankful when he chooses not to; the formality of the situation does not call for affection & she has none to give him. " you were gone for some time. " her words are a whisper, but the husky timbre of them shake & surprise her, as though days have passed without speaking; her voice is a stranger not unlike the man who sits beside her now in this strange & aching present. he does not try to argue with her; they have argued too much in the past & he is spent of arguing. after all, this is the last time he will see her & he does not want to remember her as an image with venom flowing from her tongue & into his heart. & so it is with familiarity & comfort that he searches for her mouth with his own. he revels in the feel of her, reeling & pulsing in how different she feels but so overwhelmingly the same. & she sinks into him now; not because she is empty or hungry for him like she once was, but because it is simply expected of her. & his mouth forms with the words to say nobody could be her, that he, that he loves ... but no, he does not love her & despite everything & nothing at all, she does not love him anymore. it is the last time they will share this intimate display; the last time he will map & explore her & the last time he will hold her heart inside his hands; but it is the first time that she will hold the power inside hers. the air is thick & heavy now, gliding like water through the open window, & breathing becomes drinking. he lools at her. he had looked at her in the beginning of all of this; before anguish & hatred had clouded his vision. but now, he sees her. her hair curling & twisting around his body like ink on pages; sees the moonlight creeping to melt into her skin. he does not know where the moon ends & the white expanse of her begins.                                                                                                                          darling , you are the moon.