One Reply to “6.6.2014 Journal Prompt”

  1. Bitsy throws the curtains wide and the windows wide, too. And she undresses in the moon-bright room till she’s bare as a newborn and her titties all rosebud proud and her hair falling black as starless night. And Bitsy creeps to her bed and her creeping is shadow-soft and slow as dancing at the end of a ball. And she’s whispering sweet and sweetest nothings to herself.

    Bitsy lies in her bed with arms wrapped about her in her own embrace and her eyes are closed and she says to herself ‘there’s lovely now’. And she holds a little tighter, tight as a boy’s first love, and she sighs like the wind under the door on a heavy night or like the great dog that sleeps on the town hall steps and it blows air like the soughing sea and in its head it dreams of fish clapped in batter and chips grown greasy-cold and clasped in newspaper, and old Mister Gadd feeds that dog on Friday nights when he weaves his wending way home from the pub.

    And Bitsy sighs like that town hall dog and her fingers stroke her goosebump back and she whispers soft as holy prayer and she says her own name like it is a blessed ‘amen’: ‘there’s lovely, my dearest Bitsy’. And her eyes are closed against the moon-silver light and she sleeps and wakes with shadows, and one in particular she thinks on. His name is Sean Tipton and he’s a boy and he always will be and he nuzzles the nape of her neck with his kisses and he presses his darker self to her and he says he loves her now and he loves her forever.

    Bitsy draws one hand across her cheek and the tip of a finger across her lips and Sean Tipton, lost at sea these past three years, kisses Bitsy in her dreams and his kisses taste of sharp and salt and sting. And his cold hand slip-slides down the arch of her neck and rests for a moment on her rosebud titties, and Bitsy snatches at the cold air in her room and she snatches again like she is the one drowning.

    ‘There’s lovely and lovely, my dearest Bitsy.’

    And it was more than dreaming once and the bed tossing like a choppy sea and a boy called Sean Tipton rising above her and falling like a fallen wave and the cry to heaven on his hot breath and ‘Oh my lovely’ and ‘Oh Bitsy’ and ‘Oh’. And in the morning he was sleeping there beside her and the whole world was breathless calm and still and a boy nuzzling the nape of her neck with his kisses.

    Three years lost and when the moon is full in the sky, Bitsy throws the curtains wide and the windows wide too, and she goes naked to bed with shadows and she drowns over and over in the sea-sting kisses of a boy called Sean Tipton. And when she wakes to a new morning she feels not lost but found, and a boy’s lovely words carry her through all the days and nights of the bitten moon until it is full again.

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