soapboxdiner

Kissing the shame away

They walked down the pier in the August twilight; his arm draped acrossed her shoulder absently fingering the curls in her hair. Her arm was wrapped around his waist and her hand inserted into the far back pocket of his jeans for warmth. They strolled slowly; there was no hurry. They simply strolled and watched the lights of Queen Anne glitter off the waves in the water.

At the end of the pier they stood facing each other and talked and laughed and kissed. His arms surrounded her entire body. They were the safest, sweetest, warmest and most loving thing she'd ever felt.

They stepped away from their embrace and returned to their comfortable side-to-side nestled shuffle. They sat on the wide wooden planked bench and watched the moon rise over the water. The lavender hues in the sky faded to violet and then to black. It got colder as the wind picked up. Shivering, they returned to the little Datsun B210 and listened to the Isley Brothers on Midnight Love crooning through two four-inch woofers seated on the E-break, covered in a coffee-ring-dyed dish towel.

"I want to see you."

"No. I don't want you to see me. I'm gross. It's gross. I don't want you to see me."

"Let me see you."

"I can't."

"I love you."

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Show me."

And he pulled down her pants, slowly. He opened her legs, and spread her lips, and he bent down close to look.

"Do they hurt you?"

"No. They don't hurt. Only when the doctor puts the acid on them. Then it hurts.

Please stop. I don't want you to look at me any more."

"But I love you. It's okay. You. You're okay. I'm okay with you."

And he leaned down one more time, he spread her open, and with his eyes locked on hers, he bent still further, and kissed.

She'd never been kissed like that. She'd never been that loved. She couldn't let go of her self-condemnation. She didn't see the quiet accepting healing generousity of the moment as it was given and shared with her.

She looked up at the stars and out across the water as her lover kissed her shame away. She waited for the moment to pass with the same stoic detachment she usually reserved for her gynocologist. She waited to pull up her pants. And then the moment passed.

8:16 pm - 01.22.03
previous | next

Home | Archives | Profile | Notes | DiaryLand | Random Entry