Too restless, I listen to the wind breathe through the screen on my window, always exhaling; it does nothing to sooth me. There is fierceness in me that pushes like the wind, radiating from my skin. Always exhaling; like a long slow scream that started five nights ago. My gums ache and my mouth is raw from its discontent.
I can not sleep. I can not rest. I can not say why. Movement becomes my measure of time. Exhaustion is a worthless endeavour, a vague wash of purple under my eyes and fingernails. The dreams walk before my waking gaze. There is an immediate need for violence as though stung and to weep as though spurned, yet there is no wasp to slap, no lover to despise.
What would loosen my throat? What would transform this mania into bliss and allow me to inhale? I want to covet something, someone so that I may define my aching, trilling tension, to find release so I may sleep.
Would you let me pour this scream into you and willingly suffer the echoes of it in your mind and blood? Shall my hungry lips and hands take your flesh? Would such a violation secretly please you?
I will knock on your door, my heartbeat in my fingertips, in all I touch. Would you open it to let the dark spill into your hallway? Could you know of the corporal succubus outside its protection who is not there to thieve but to share her damnation?
I see in your eyes my fierceness reflected. When the heartbeat in my fingertips glides across the skin of your cheek I see the sleep fall from your countenance and I know you hear the scream. I see your throat go tight in anticipation, your pupils eclipsing the brightness of the iris. The click of my heels creates eddies in the tension suffusing the hall. I see the moisture of the night air glazing your bare skin. The sound of the door closing behind me holds the finality of a guillotine. The silence is too thick for words.
I cannot kiss you, but let my fingers drift over your chilled skin. To kiss you would be my undoing and I do not wish to come undone. Not yet. The wall behind you holds you up to my scrutiny. I place one hand on either side of you and close my eyes as its cool texture braces me. My dry, soft lips move across your throat and brush your collar bone as I breathe you in.
That simple touch is transformed into controlled violence as my brittle need manifests in my lips. I can hear it in your breathing. My lips glide down and my tongue curls out and over your nipple. I can feel the moan in your chest. The thin scratching of my nails on the wall raises your flesh in goosebumps. In the perfect silence sound becomes a sword-edge, so sharp and swift that it moves through tomorrow's twilight. Blues and purples and weeping whites fill the moment as night soaks into the emptiness between breaths.
Sweetly, I lift my cheek a hairsbreadth from yours, as Psyche must have done while revealing her secret Lover before he was burned by her that night, betrayed by her restlessness in the broken dark.