drunkencynic's Diaryland Diary


lipstick and bruises

Maybe I'm allowing myself to be sweet-talked, romanced, bamboozled. Maybe I want to be.

We are rolling around on the bed, both tipsy, but still lucid. I am trying frantically to remember why I ever decided to remain celibate. I try to hurry the thought along to rising to the top of my brain, breaking the surface (as it were), but it's no use. I am so incredibly selective with memory when I'm impaired in any way.

And he is whispering to me, caressing me, disclosing things I know are sacred, and all in complete earnest. "Please, Sarah, when I'm with you I feel closer to you than I've ever been to anyone before. You make me feel..." and unfortunately the level of tipsiness that I was at rather erased the rest of the sweet little nothings I was hoping to remember, but ah well, I got the gist. "Please, Sarah, let me be close to you," he pleaded. "I've never wanted anything this badly before in my life."

"Let me be close to you."

So I decided he had the right idea and I was way past the point of no return, so I let him. Which sounds wrong, since I was biting at the bit as well. It was incredible. He has marks on his back and I'm sure I have bruises.

And fuck it all, I don't give a shit. Let whatever happens happen.

10:26 a.m. - 2003-11-22


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