I KNOW I NEED US MORE THAN I NEED ME
The water crinkles and splashes as I split its lips and enter. I shudder at its coolness, knowing without looking that the steam of my post-gallop sweat peels off of me in contrast to the icy waters that lap at my chest below; a voice in my head (the ghost of my mothers' or my sister's, I suppose) warns me of the danger of such a harsh change in temperature. Good, I answer the concerned voice, heaving great breaths of frigid air into my lungs. Let it hurt me.
I lift my head to gaze at the stars but close my eyes before I can count to three; dizziness threatens, and I teeter there in the moonlight. The imprints of the jewels above perform a drunken spin against the black backdrop of my eyelids and I smile. A private lightshow just for me, an intrusive voice says. I wish Iri could see this.
I open my eyes.
Shut up.
Licking my lips and bidding my burning lungs still, I heave my body a step further and plunge my head beneath the waters, hoping to clear it of its aching and lonesome nonsense. I come up, spluttering and truly cold, now, the droplets sliding down my face freezing before they can drop. Fuck me. As an uncontrollable shivering sets up across my ink-and-ivory hide, I throw my weight onto my hindlegs and pivot in the water, the movement slow and laboured as my sizeable body fights against the current. Giving a slow-motion canter stride, and then another, I breach and trot up the rocky bank, head hung low as I attempt to stretch out the ice-stiff muscles of my topline. Well that was stupid, a voice says. I cannot discern whose.
Relegated to shiver the whole night through until the sun rises and frees me of this frigid prison of my own design, I heave a great sigh and settle in a path of clear moonlight. Atop my back, starlight shuffles and settles, its immaterial winged shape clutching my side but for the imagination of warmth. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I close my eyes. I part my lips. Without knowing what might come from them, I begin to sing, a quiet and slow melody more for myself than anyone else; a lullaby to soothe my aching conscience.
I lift my head to gaze at the stars but close my eyes before I can count to three; dizziness threatens, and I teeter there in the moonlight. The imprints of the jewels above perform a drunken spin against the black backdrop of my eyelids and I smile. A private lightshow just for me, an intrusive voice says. I wish Iri could see this.
I open my eyes.
Shut up.
Licking my lips and bidding my burning lungs still, I heave my body a step further and plunge my head beneath the waters, hoping to clear it of its aching and lonesome nonsense. I come up, spluttering and truly cold, now, the droplets sliding down my face freezing before they can drop. Fuck me. As an uncontrollable shivering sets up across my ink-and-ivory hide, I throw my weight onto my hindlegs and pivot in the water, the movement slow and laboured as my sizeable body fights against the current. Giving a slow-motion canter stride, and then another, I breach and trot up the rocky bank, head hung low as I attempt to stretch out the ice-stiff muscles of my topline. Well that was stupid, a voice says. I cannot discern whose.
Relegated to shiver the whole night through until the sun rises and frees me of this frigid prison of my own design, I heave a great sigh and settle in a path of clear moonlight. Atop my back, starlight shuffles and settles, its immaterial winged shape clutching my side but for the imagination of warmth. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I close my eyes. I part my lips. Without knowing what might come from them, I begin to sing, a quiet and slow melody more for myself than anyone else; a lullaby to soothe my aching conscience.
Indius
@Bardot