Flash Fiction Writing

if I lay here

“I hope you’re old boyfriends tickled your back for you,” he says and I can hear the pout playing on his lips. I shut my eyes and feel his chest rise and fall slowly, my ear pressed against his chest bone. I feel those first few pinprick tears starting to play around inside of my tear ducts and blink hard to push them away. Keep myself here in this moment, with his hands painting swirls across my back.

“I honestly can’t remember the last time anyone tickled my back,” I whisper towards the darkness in front of me. The dark is pixelated by the city lights peeking behind the blinds. The dark is made softer by the crooning records spinning endlessly and closing us into an insular world.

He pushes his lips softly into my midnight hair and inhales deeply. I inhale too, taking in every molecule of this moment. “That’s a shame,” he speaks, “your skin is so soft.”

via *

7 Comments

  • Mon Khaai

    Your blog is so beautiful.

    xoxo ♥ http://www.beingasanmonica.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • Lola Day

    You articulated a moment like this so beautifully accurate I swear you could have been describing my own experiences in bed with someone. God damn. Everything from your head to his chest, the rhythm of your breathing, the circles he paints on your back.

    Reply
  • Lola Day

    Ps…

    It's a complicated contradiction desiring solitude as well as love. I think we come to desire solitude after being burned so many times. Naturally we want to avoid pain. Yet we naturally yearn for love and someone's chest to rest our head on at night.
    So when we are indeed alone, we only have memories of the other thing we want. This moment you've described ^ will become another memory upon all of your memories. I really don't know anymore how probable it is for one person to stick around for so long. People are selfish.
    I think one day, maybe not soon enough, but someday, someone will never want anyone else but you to fall asleep on his chest at night. Until then, we are torn. Though they can sting, at least the memories are beautiful. So we can only enjoy those moments before they turn into memories.

    Reply
  • Jennifer

    I love your writing so much.

    Reply
  • Shadow

    This is, indeed, a wonderful piece. Makes me wonder why she really felt the tears…

    Reply
  • Emerald Dove

    This is really so beautiful! 🙂
    theemeralddove21.blogspot.co.uk

    Reply

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