BITTER CIGARETTE

And the dying hours of the day, its last embers of what was, slowly cool down into night. Its light glowed bright, then burned down to red, faded into dark blue and the stars opened their eyes. A lingering glow was all along the edges of the horizon as I found myself in some forgettable party, smoking… the death of an old flame left me flicking ashes of memories. Funny how passion flickers in front of your eyes, an evanescent ghostlike glow too hot to handle, too beautiful to let go. I had made it my intention to quit; come clean and leave this dating scene; breathing in the fresh air of freedom.

And then she walked in, her wild dark hair swept back from her forehead and cascaded down her neck like a thick mane; Long elegant arms and back porcelain pale in the twilight; Her eyes, two smoldering coals feigned a lazy quality that contrasted the ferocious smile her mouth made. That smile holds back the smooth voice dripping with honey and venomous villainity. What a stunner, what a dream; lust is a terribly wonderful thing.

Freshly drips from her lips does the night and I am soaked to core ready to burn. Even this hazy bar begins to peel and crackle at the edges from the heat of her gaze. She spoke, ’Come, let's exchange words in secret’, and were I a stronger man I would have lived to see regret, but my curiosity of her predatory nature led me down the night drenched streets of the mother city, another flame burning bright between my lips as we lived dinner, desired desserts, gave tips, then out the door and again through the mean streets we walked to warm embrace, a kiss good night upon her doorstep–coffee?–love some–and found myself in this place where bodies meld, worlds fade, souls face; Wash over me with your lips, your hair, your tongue, your hands; with the love between your hips; Wash me with your arms and breath, drown in your eyes as we slip into the heart of the earth where heaven burns on fire.......................

She asked me why I was so quiet.

‘My tongue fails my heart, leaving only my eyes to drink in your sweetness,’ I said.

She wondered about that for a while with her head on my chest, the world passing by. Something told her the night would end and this moment of life would go.

‘Will I see you again?’ she asked.

‘Maybe.’

‘That’s no answer.'

‘Baby–‘

‘No not baby anymore. Nothing more.’ she said.

‘Our love will write itself upon our bodies in the secret language of our hearts. How will we forget that?’

‘Maybe we could write an encyclopedia on our love.’

‘I’ve always liked poetry.’

‘You mean plain sex and nothing else.’

‘It’s never plain.’

‘But it always ends.’

‘Everything worth while ends.’

‘Not this, not yet.’

‘Not yet..........................’

Soon this space will be too small and I’ll go outside to the hills and valleys of the sunrise; leave this paradise of the dark as the day fast catches up and the last rays of night glimmer feebly in the corners of people’s houses. I will look up to see table mountain spectacularly lit, glowing with just the slightest strands of clouds on top as the wind blows hard, sounding like the rushing sea calling to me beyond the city. In these last moments I will stand at the open door looking back in. On the bed, wrapped in the duvet cover she snores a little; this woman who becomes like a precious filtered dream; soon her skin a pale cream will leave followed by the veins singeing; the muscles disintegrate; It is the bones of her memory that stand the longest– and they disappear in a puff of smoke as I close the door.