Thursday, March 20, 2008

Skin Deep

She was gorgeous; with her little silk dress on, a perfect figure, her skin porcelain white. Mozart was her melody. Ballet-dancer.

She was so deeply in love. She'd hear Him read His poems. She'd watch Him play the piano. She was His. And she liked it. Only He could touch her and hold her. He'd whisper to her: “I love you”.
"I will become a great musician one day, I promise. I'll compose songs for you. I will do whatever it takes to be happy. And you will always dance to my music", He said to her.
"Yes, I'd love that, tell me more", she responded.
"I will be rich, we will be rich, my money is yours, take it or leave it", He continued. "Diamonds and pearls, amethysts and opals from the most exotic countries, this is what I am aiming at."
"I just want you."
He didn't hear her out. He'd just leave sometimes without saying anything, with his eyes looking at the clock like He was late somewhere. She knew His timetable well. But sometimes He would just surprise her. Dancing was her way of forgetting those gaps of time between them. She wondered what He was doing while He was away. Her thoughts and herself was all she had when He was far from her. Picturing Him in her mind, she'd hear Mozart play almost automatically: the pale white skin, the hazel eyes, the brown hair, those long fingers made to play the piano.
There were several times when He was sitting there, looking at her with hungry eyes. She was sometimes afraid of that.
"You are beautiful. But beauty is only skin deep. Inside, you are empty. You are nothing. You don't have feelings, you don't have emotions. You are a moving emptiness. You are a beautiful emptiness but nothing more. And I love you", He told her.
She would feel like crying when He said that to her but that last phrase has always made her forget everything and fall more madly in love.
"I love you too", she whispered.
Then He touched her body. Slowly, with his fingers, He started touching her face: eyes, nose lips and cheeks. Then He touched her arms and hands, then He went down to touch her breasts and stomach through that beautiful silk dress she loved the most. Then He let her dance for Him. She swirled and turned, just the way He liked it. She watched Him close His eyes at times, feeling the music.
He would marry her soon.
She waited patiently.
He hid the engagement ring in a box that played the Mozart melody. He thought she was so stupid not to notice. She studied the ring very carefully: eternal platinum, with five beautiful stones in it. Diamonds, they call them. She was sure of it. She'd have this ring to herself? Can it be true?

He would go out looking at the clock more often, this always made her worried. She'd peek into the box when He was away to make herself calm down, that He is hers and only hers.
He came back home with The Other She. The Other She was very beautiful but not as beautiful as the ballet-dancer in the silk dress. Not at all. She was sure of it. The Other She wasn't even a dancer. But sometimes The Other She would sing to His songs. He'd touch The Other She's hands. It really hurt her. He didn't know she watched them secretly.
"Go out of the room, now", He said strictly to The Other She.
The Other She listened to him and left.
It was she and Him left in the room. The ballet-dancer and the piano player. A perfect combination.
He opened the box, took the ring out of it and kneeled.
"I love you. And always loved you. I cherish every moment with you and you are the light when it’s night, the breeze on a hot day and a helping hand when I am in a downfall. I love you. I want to take every step with you and only you. There will never be any other she, only you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Will you... Will you marry me?"
"Yes! Yes! Yes! I love you too! I do", she relied with no hesitation.
He smiled happily. She was so happy, He let her dance to the beautiful music and He…
He just looked away and said: “You can come in now.”
The Other She came in and sat down.
He kneeled again and said the exact same things to The Other She.
The Other She stood up, confused as He put the ring on The Other She’s finger. He was shivering with nervousness.
"Yes, I do", said The Other She.
He stood up, started to carry The Other She who raised her hands with happiness as ballet-dancer accidentally fell down.
"I am so sorry, we can repair her," said The Other She.
He looked sad again. "She was the only thing left after my parents."
"We can fix her."
"No. I won't let a porcelain ballerina on a music box spoil my happiness", he said calmly now.
"She was beautiful", The Other She said.
"Beauty is only skin deep."
She lay there for some hours broken, inside and out. He broke everything in her, even her emptiness.
Skin deep.
But she was made of porcelain.

Saturday, March 15, 2008

Used to

I'm used to asking you before I decide
I'm used to looking ill and wearing your clothes
And taking my meds
And sometimes overdose
I'm used to fighting and feeling annoyed
Being the player or being the toy

I'm used to hating the same people as you
Doing something old and bringing something new
I'm used to screaming to turn the TV off
I'm used to your logic, headaches and cough

I have to get used to the changing times
And penalties and loans and debts and fines

I have to get used to using the key
Instead of ringing the bell

Oh and the bags on the way back
From the market are as heavy as hell


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