distance (part twenty-seven)

Closed, and grown again.

The perfect summer sun.

The long drive.

The bottles on the table, not far from your highball glass and your open book.
The brown glass against my lips,
the sweet bite of hard cider.

The way you didn't care if the window was open--
who was going to see us?
With the blinds shut, a hot, quiet den of iniquity.
      Made you sweat more than I did.
With the blinds open, afforded a perfect view of the lake.

The crisp lake water--
      the way my eyelids always weigh heavy after swimming through it.
Lying out on the dock, summer sun, lapping water, Radical Face--
      all by myself, could've stayed there for days.
          'Twas peace.

The hickey smack-dab between
My sheared-off, filed-down angel's wings--
If you smoked cigars
and were a sadist,
and pressed the burning end into my back,
the scar tissue would be in the exact shape that bruise is--
      a perfect little circle of purple veins.
The red bite marks behind and below my right shoulder.

Always so gracious afterward.
I felt like you cared a little more about my well-being this time around.
      Was it just because I was the closest girl who would get into bed with you?
      Or because I'm your friend?

Today was a great day, and not because I'm falling for you. Never again.
Simply because today, I had fun. And was at peace, for a small sliver of time.

-Dana Winter