Wet Dream

Saying goodbye

"I just want you to love me."

I hold my breath as I lower myself beneath the sparkling surface. I feel it close over my body, hugging every corner and fold like a second skin. My tears mix with the water above me, unseen and anonymous.

 

"I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be."

 

It is comfortable and warm in my pain-ridden hell. I turn up the heat, allowing it to burn my skin. It is glorious and masochistic. The anger bubbles, seethes, roils, and begs for attention. I close my eyes, blocking out the rainbows.

 

"Please don't leave me."

 

It begins to burn my nose like acid. I ignore it and focus on you. My hands clench on the porcelain rim. My body quivers in need. My brain pleads with me to be reasonable. So I slip further under.

 

"I just don't want you."

 

I feel it building, moving up my body from my toes to my  legs, my hips to my belly, my breasts to my arms, my cold hands to my head. My vision darkens but I am unafraid. My body is rioting under the warm silk water.

 

"I'm not worth it."

 

The tears stop as my body tenses and everything stills. The world collapses in a bright flash of light. Clarity slaps my face. The pieces thrown into the air stall and begin their descent falling into place as the world erupts back into brilliant color. My body arches upward out of the water; waves rolling down my skin, my mouth open silently screaming for the air to rush into my lungs.

 

"Goodbye."