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Scar.
Posted by JSYL
on
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
in
JSYL's Prose
She runs her hand along the inside of the scar, softly tracing the edge, feeling the pain that must have rippled throughout the wound, now just a dried up tear to remind him of what had once lingered for weeks...never truly healing, but in some kind of cruel joke, had stayed to remind him of that pain, and everyone else that saw it of it too.
He winces as though it were a fresh cut and grimaces at the softness of her touch, hating it all the more for being so soft. If she were a man he would have killed her by now but it wouldn't do to kill a woman. So he grits his teeth and endures it as though someone were slicing him open again with a blade as rusty and jagged as the first had been...it hurts just as much now. It tingles the very core of him and makes him feel like she is ripping his insides wide open and neatly hanging them on top of his outsides.
It is a familiar sight...every scar, every mole and the way the light plays to darken the shadow on his face...just as she had left it all before. If she closed her eyes she would know every part of him by heart, she is sure, which was just as well because she would have to, now. The smile leaves her face, crawling off into nothingess as slowly and slyly as it had done when it slid through her lips at the start.
They linger for a moment, no regulatory grunt from him, no choked sob from her, just a momentary glance that connects their very souls though their hands don't even brush slightly. When he turns away he does not look back and her hung head does not once shift upward, for fear that the sight of the dark figure that shrinks so quickly, and even quicker still will be too much to bear.
When she awakens she is not sure if it was all just a dream, a beautiful dream she had tried to dream for years. Whether perhaps they had finally met as they had promised to every night with that one glance. But if it was a dream why hadn't they embraced each other? Because they knew that it would make it harder to let go? Because they were scared it would never feel the same, that it would be their last?
She shakes her head, weary of all the worries that haunt her through the day, rests her head on the pillow and tries hard to picture the smooth edge and soft centre of his scar once again.
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He winces as though it were a fresh cut and grimaces at the softness of her touch, hating it all the more for being so soft. If she were a man he would have killed her by now but it wouldn't do to kill a woman. So he grits his teeth and endures it as though someone were slicing him open again with a blade as rusty and jagged as the first had been...it hurts just as much now. It tingles the very core of him and makes him feel like she is ripping his insides wide open and neatly hanging them on top of his outsides.
It is a familiar sight...every scar, every mole and the way the light plays to darken the shadow on his face...just as she had left it all before. If she closed her eyes she would know every part of him by heart, she is sure, which was just as well because she would have to, now. The smile leaves her face, crawling off into nothingess as slowly and slyly as it had done when it slid through her lips at the start.
They linger for a moment, no regulatory grunt from him, no choked sob from her, just a momentary glance that connects their very souls though their hands don't even brush slightly. When he turns away he does not look back and her hung head does not once shift upward, for fear that the sight of the dark figure that shrinks so quickly, and even quicker still will be too much to bear.
When she awakens she is not sure if it was all just a dream, a beautiful dream she had tried to dream for years. Whether perhaps they had finally met as they had promised to every night with that one glance. But if it was a dream why hadn't they embraced each other? Because they knew that it would make it harder to let go? Because they were scared it would never feel the same, that it would be their last?
She shakes her head, weary of all the worries that haunt her through the day, rests her head on the pillow and tries hard to picture the smooth edge and soft centre of his scar once again.
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