Kitties (not my painting, creds to the artist)
"Your leather jacket is really important, actually."
Zombies, meat jerky, heckling: confusing.
An explosive, shimmering look. A fall. A hand up. A hug, kisses on cheeks.
The moment before a kiss, that never happened— heat.
Guilt. Acceptance. Smoothness, lead by a hand at the back.
Careful hands. Searching eyes. Trouble, await me!
Alas, back to the waking world I went…
Lavender Town at 5am
Sometimes I look at the backs of my hands and my arms in general doing whatever it is I’m doing and I realise how young I am but so old in comparison to when I watched myself….be when I was a kid.
I look at the veins all lining up to my scarred knuckles and the spots all along the skin and those two damn burn scars on the insides of my forearms…
I look at the rings I wear— a claddaugh I was gifted several years ago, the skeleton I was gifted for my 18th birthday, and the band which is one of a set with Denise wearing the other. They are reminders of where I have been and what I am now, perhaps even what I will never stray from.
My fingernails are always dirty. It’s been blood, motor oil, gasoline, skin, gunk, ink, mud, paint, etc.— physical remainders of the past (good or bad) that stick around until I pick out from underneath them.
These tools of mine have touched and done so many things. When I need a snap back to reality I check my HUD, so to speak. My ever changing arms and strong hands.