In my pale cocoon of diffuse light I lie still as the grave.
Mummified in white paper, every inch of me wrapped from head to toe. Each tiny movement, each shallow breath makes crinkles. Supine upon your bed, I blink and my eyelashes make rasping sounds against the paper that covers my face. This close, I examine the intricate weave of the paper, its fibers pressed into fine meshwork. There is a century’s worth of information here, if I am serene enough to see it.
I could raise my arms or spread my legs and be free of this shroud. The fragile tissue would tear with ease. Sometimes I hallucinate the sound of it ripping as I move.
Sometimes the sound is real. From time to time you come to me, press your mouth against the paper until it almost melts away, and burrow a little hole. I’ve felt the tip of your tongue on my hip, the tip of your finger just above my knee, the warm pad of your thumb on the rounded curve of my right shoulder.
You sample me through keyholes, spacing out the occasions until time becomes an unbearable burden.
At night I dream of moving, of sitting up. I see my gift-wrapped form tear loose from this bright grave. But I don’t move.
Time has grown insignificant.
I am a prisoner of patience.
I wait for the day you open a little hole at my mouth and kiss me.
Wow. Surreal, unearthly, I LOVE it.
Sigh Again and once again You strike Leaving more questions to be filled by the reader. You create the fantasies for others to follow. This is your talent.
An abundance of emotion using an economy of words. Some might call it poetry. I liked it a lot.
The smell of paper lingers…
Excellent.
So dense, rich, with imagery and insight and genuineness and love.
Not really love of the healthiest sort, though, hehe.
I imagine the patience, agonizing, on the other side of that wrapping…
I would be echoing the other sentiments if I said what I wanted to say – and they’ve beaten me to it. so I’ll just say ….
**I** would not have such patience.
🙂
me neither
Utterly beautiful and utterly painful, both in equal measure. Thank you x
I’m not sure what to say, other than the imagery is simply amazing.
Frankly, this scared the hell out of me.
Interesting that it scared you. It sort of scared me too. I’m quite fascinated by improvisations on the theme of martyrdom. Of course, they’re always self-imposed. The trap is of her own making, yes?
This is very much nightmare territory for me – too much so for me to find anything erotic in her situation.
Incredibly imaginative, oddly sensual and fascinating. Definitely, lots of questions. Bathroom breaks being the on forefront. But, that’s just my weird little mind. Still, wow!
Whose patience?
Why does this have such a hold on me? I keep coming back to it, keep thinking about the one outside the wrapping, the one spoken to. He–yes, a man, in my mind, surely because he resonates for me–he knows we all come wrapped, in our history and our hopes. He knows concealment and revelation, separation and merging, are the core of the desire we live in. He wonders what she–yes, a woman, in my mind, again–what she has chosen and what has been imposed. He is careful, respectful. He loves her. They are both prisoners of patience.
I do so love to read your work. Nothing makes me more happy than to see I have something new in my box. You excite, but in the way of the excellent writter you have become. I own NO TV, I read, both on the web and hard copy. My mother was an English teacher and while I am sure she would NOT approve of your subject matter (heavy duty Catholic) SHE would approve of your writting skills just as I do, but I also like the subject matter. A hug and kiss on the cheek from One eyedJack and the Dawg
Then I can see why you like it. It definitely has a thread of martyrdom running through it. Also faith.
One can almost smell the formaldehyde. I agree with Dileriumtree, evokes alot of questions.
Interesting that you read the formaldehyde into it. Lovely!
RG, since when have you been a minimalist?
Beautiful but very, very strange.
Warm hugs,
Paul.
*laughing* since when haven’t I being attracted to extremes?
How different! I was just thinking yesterday how *typical* submission scenes were getting. and now this. Thank you
Your last sentences push the story from a fascinating frolic to extreme submission if read literally. On the other hand, the partial sensory deprivation and initial submission to being wrapped have the wonderful effect of completely distorting the sense of time, generally making minutes seem like hours and hours like days. The story made me think, pushed me to reread; definitely signs of good work. Thanks!
I love it, like so much of your writing, that viceral feeling it leaves, lingers long after the reading
Echoing janeway, this scared me. I’m trying to think why but I think it may be a claustrophobia thing. Funny thing is, though, I find blindfolds very erotic but not this. Sorry
Well, then I got it at least half-way right. It should be scary, but if it’s not also erotic, then it failed.
It obviously didn’t fail for most people. Most of your work I find highly stimulating & I thank you for it.
I don’t think I have the willpower of the characters you so wonderfully portray, but the feelings they evoke in me are amazing. Keep up the great work.
♥ Ash
You have the poet’s gift for the symbolic and the metaphorical. This is inspiring writing RG. It’s a different kind of eroticism that I’m going to have to sit with and turn around.
I see ways to add depth to my own writing.
Sometimes I have to say, depth is overrated. Hehe.
“You sample me through keyholes, spacing out the occasions until time becomes an unbearable burden.”
It is these kind of sentences that inspire me to reach further in my own work.
The torture of touch with no relief, need without release, and never knowing the end—yep, I like this. 🙂
“You sample me through keyholes…”
I love that line.
There is nothing I can add that hasn’t already been written. It tantalizes & terrifies yet still it has a draw.
Fabulous as always