michellesg

I got three piercings yesterday (which is kind of hot I may add) and I love them!! I got my lip done finally and I got my rooke and my tragus done in my other ear so now my ears are balanced.

Have I ever mentioned how xip makes me weak in the knees? this girl has balls, beauty and some amazing talent. Someday I want to kidnap her and feed her Korean candy, give her huggles and convince her to marry me.

So here is my short story, it's pretty long so if you don't want to read it all then that's cool, but please leave me comments, be honest I'm more interested in what you really think about especially because I never consider any of my writings to be finished.

(sorry I can't get the formatting right, god damn I hate computers, there are supposed to be paragraphs and stuff...)

Naked Sheets

This is what happened after you left. The sky grew plain, the cat became depressed, the bed felt empty and my stomach growled for your cooking. For forty-eight hours I laid under the sheets desperately trying to recount every event that took place in our bed. Ran my fingers over the silk, rocked my body on the places where our bodies had touched, and cradled your pillow to try to re-capture your scent. That scent from your strawberry shampoo you used only lingered for a couple of days. For a while I resorted to using it in the shower to be reminded by your presence, but it made my hair frizzy as opposed to how it made yours smooth.
Your new lover Curtis stopped by and dragged me out of the house last month to get coffee, but you already knew that, in fact it was probably your idea. It angered aspects of my blood and my veins grew full with temper when Curtis had the nerve to look at my drowning face and say her happiness is what is most important, or should be at least. Your happiness could have been supplied by me you know that it still can. He doesnt understand your body you know, he told me of your pregnancy as if it was achieving an object, a material possession, I knew you wanted to grow into something different, a mammoth creature of humanity that spewed forth joy and love. I knew I would never have the right seeds to plant deep within you, and I would never see your tummy grow by my own making. Please tell me you left because I could not give you a child, and not because you love him more. I remember when we laid in bed and made fun of his thinning hair, his lumpy body and his dowdiness. We joked that accountants did not have sex organs, and reproduced by buying babies from someone with passion.
Yes, I punched him. I broke his nose perhaps. I have no apologies if that is where you want this to go. I hate him, and his awful onion breath, his stupid misogynist business ties, hes squeaky lame voice, and how he doesnt even know how to look at me in the eyes. After an hour of utter contrite conversation he told me to quote grow up. I lunged my fist with as much force as I could possibly muster in the space before him and felt my folded fingers split the air
between us, releasing an eerie noise of defeat. It felt as if it took minutes to get there, and his smug stare grew increasingly infuriating as my body gradually moved into the attack. My body was flying high with hormones, coursing through every inch of my streams, penetrating my eyeballs and spitting anger in the face of a pathetic devil. The blood came immediately of course, as did the proprietor of the caf, they both chased out rapidly, the latter screamed and called the police, but we both know I left before they arrived.
I was three blocks down when I heard the sirens, I gaffed at your stupidity for thinking the meeting would make amends between Curtis and I. Your intention was probably to prove to me that he is kind and how that was a sufficient reason for leaving me. When it started to rain, I kept walking toward Kane St. the most despised place in your mind because of Becca. The water flowed down the length of my body, grasped my clothes tight to my skin, made my nipples freeze and protrude through my shirt and my shoes fill with moisture. The sagging emotions from earlier caused my legs to became unbearable to lift and crash back down to the earth as I began walking in the street. It was dark before I realized, the sky had lost color, the street lights were few and far between, and the empty sound of night approached me. I was alone with your image, your orange colored hair, the scent of your sex, the touch of your skin, that goddamn growing belly that had nothing and everything to do with me. I wanted to burn. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the road and my pores began accepting the sharp drops of precipitation. My jacket fell to the puddles surrounding me and I burst forth with a noise of utter torment. For measures I remained still hearing my hoarse throat battling with the sounds of clouds crashing into clouds, praying the electric lightning would strike into my still beating heart and force it open again. Patiently I waited for a car to reach me and ruin my shaking body
that sat almost nakedly there, but one never came.
After minutes I headed to Beccas house on Kent St. When she opened the door, her eyes grew cold and a sigh released from her ever puffy lips. Holy shit, you are soaked, half naked, you fucker, get in here she practically whispered at my drowning silhouette. She pulled me in by my hair and threw me on her couch. How did you know she was not going to be here tonight? her puzzled lips pursed and revealed to me. I pretended I knew and stared at her deep and dark eyes. I know you hated her for what I did with her in the past, but you must remember, times were tough then my love and you were already looking for a man to make you feel whole.
You are here for trouble once again I see, she said as she sat down next to me on the floor with her long flowing hair resting on each sharply positioned shoulder. You know I should get you out of those clothes, she began and placed a hand on each of my knees, and grinned evilly up at my soaked and cold body. Its been a while my dear, she left you months ago, I expected you here much sooner. I shrugged and grabbed each hand pulling her face toward mine. Neither one of us had to say another word for the rest of the night. Although I hadnt touched her skin since that night that I spent in her bed rather than yours, I still knew exactly how to touch her.
Her lips were still as soft as they always were, when we slid around on her sheets all I could think about was your body and how similar it was to hers. A womans spine curves and wildly floats in space when she lies next to a lover. It was nothing like the night I deceived you; there was far more passion, I wanted to rip her apart, bite her skin and savor her as if she was you, also no alcohol ran the length of our blood. I was sober to likeness, and for hours on end we danced repeatedly, she moaned louder then I had remembered, I had gotten used to your quiet whispers and humming in my ears. At times I even thought she was you, that it was your gentle lips at mine, your tiny fingers unraveling my body, I had to in order to feel anything inside.
When we awoke she had made me eggs, waffles and bacon. I didnt realize how little I had eaten that week until I devoured my entire plate plus two bowls of crappy health food cereal. I always loved how you like Cookie Crisp smothered with chocolate milk and when you would drive the spoon in the bowl with the intensity you drove your pen to paper. When I finished eating, I put the dryer warmed clothes on my cold naked body and Becca told me that she already called a cab. I waited outside on the door step feeling the warm cotton smooth down the raised hairs on my skin. The cab came quick, we said our awkward goodbyes, and as I got in she yelled, Sometimes I hate you and I hate how you love her more than me. And you cant come back here again, I have a new lover now. With that I slammed the door and watched her storm into her house from the window. As the cab drove down Kent St, I saw my jacket lying abandoned on the curb. I wanted to tell him to pullover so I could grab it, but I figured that it was there for a reason. I hoped you would drive by the next day and see the jacket you bought for me last Christmas, stained and battered lying near the house of the woman I almost left you for.
Days flew by like the gusts of hot air from the cappuccino machine in your favorite caf three blocks down. Ive gone there a few times and ordered your favorite drink, spent hours sipping in down my throat. I let the texture of heat and fluid drive deep within me and the flavor of vanilla fulfill my longing for you. After a while I would forget why I had been there, stumble home and try to see if the cat would play with me, he always hated me, and I despise that you left him here with me because of that. The bills started rolling in and I decided I should get a job again, the endless newspapers stained my sweaty fingers with their shameful ink, and I interviewed days on end until I finally became a telephone operator. The kind that calls people up and tells them they have won a prize and to collect it they just have to sign up for the membership to our traveling company, but I was so pathetically unenthusiastic, that I didnt meet the weekly quota and was fired. I stopped looking for a job after that, I dipped into my savings, and started selling my art for cheap in those crappy galleries in the trendy part of town. Someday you might see one of my paintings in your dentists office, he was interested in that green one you loved, I sold it to the gallery for fifty dollars and washed my hands clean of it.
The lawn was coated with your clothing for a week because you never came and got them. Your jeans covered the green grass with their sharp shades of deep blue, your tiny dresses and your pastel tops littered the sidewalk and eventually blew into the street before a neighbor came and threw them in the garbage. Those clothes wouldnt fit you anyways, now that you are carrying your new future and life outside of you. I may have liked you better when you kept your secrets inside your head, like when you would tug on my sleeve in the middle of the night and tell me the wild dream of deep red dragons and fairies that enraptured your spirit and carried you off into heavens of living, but wouldnt tell me what happened there. Your fantasies were almost as wicked as your tongue when someone threatened you and who you were. You once defended me with every ounce of your blood, and whispered tender weather in my sleep.
The cat disappeared some time two weeks ago, I searched for him, called his name down every street and even asked the infuriating old man next door if he saw him. Food was always lying in his bowl, and the water was never drunk, and his hair lay everywhere because he stopped grooming. The vet told me I was almost more helpless than the cat and that I should just give him to a better home, and try to get myself some help before I wasted away. Hunger is only as important as a schedule and mine is entirely filled with you.
I walked through a department store the day the cat left and stared at all of the baby clothes. I pictured you rummaging through them with Curtis and picking out the stereotypical blue or pink. At one time I had you convinced that gender was irrelevant, that passion and sex drive every one of us, and to deprive ourselves of tenderness would be unforgivable. You are terrible at forgiveness though, and I wonder that if I had not visited Kent St that night, if you would still be here with me. I would say that I am sorry again, but I have already drained my tears at your feet for hours and you refuse to forgive me.
I heard your voice on the phone last week. Did you think I had forgotten your signature sigh of disappointment? The days when we first met were so full of your deep heavy breaths, you would make me stay after class and you would pick my brain for my ridiculous logic of why I was failing. Humorously it took us both months to finally succumb to our desires and realize why the meetings always took place. Can you recall when I bit harsh into your spindly neck and you fiercely slapped my cheek for being too rough? Nights have been lived before with more intensity, but that evening when our skin first scrapped against each other with fervent passion will live forever in the history of our minds. You my professor, but I the instructor, touring our bodies, twirling arms and winding legs that wrapped around my torso and back around for miles of unclaimed land.
Im writing you this letter because you removed the phone from your ears before I could tell you anything or everything. You probably want to hear all of this or maybe you just wanted to say hello and offer me some of your blueberry pie that makes me tremble, either way I hope you have not burned this yet and those blue eyes are still attached to my lines. Think of this as that final paper I never handed in when I was merely a student, or all those paintings I never
finished because I could never capture your perfect essence. Come back to me with your unborn love, and I can delicately brush all of us into my final piece of art. Without you my skies are plain, the cat wont return, lack of food is causing me to starve, and our sheets are effortlessly naked.

Return to me my love