I only asked him to slap me in my face because I knew he’d do it. I knew he’d take his hand from where it fit so sweetly in the curve of my body where my ribs could be seen poking out under boobs and over hips. He’d pick up his hand from where it felt good and he’d make it feel bad. Because I wanted him to. Because I needed him to.

I had faith in his hand to only do as I asked of it. I knew his hand would hit and fingers would enter where they should. Fingers would slide into me when I said “yes” and when I said “yes!” they would go deeper.

I only asked him to go deeper when my voice left my lips to express ecstacy and he was confused because I should have hurt so bad. I asked him to lift me up and throw me down and fuck me so hard I couldn’t stand afterwards. I wanted him to fuck me and leave marks where he did and so he did. Because I asked.

Laying there underneath him during the act was the perfect place to be. I knew he’d turn his face upwards and keep his dick downwards, inside of me, and excavating the parts of me I asked for him to mine. I kept asking, asking, asking and begging and saying “please”. When I begged, he’d cover my mouth which I loved because I couldn’t breathe as well and my insides would burn just like my outsides.

He only asked me if he could stop when tears welled up in his eyes because he couldn’t fuck me like that anymore. He’d collapse onto me and sweat would pool where our chests met. His head would fall onto my shoulder where I let him lay and he’d kiss my neck. I’d let him slow down and rock into me and kiss my neck and bite my ear a little because he knew I liked that. Soon, my muscles tensed around his and his into mine and suddenly, we would both exhale. His hand would come to my cheek and his lips to my lips and then we would lay there together.

When we were on our way home it started to rain! I ran off in my direction and you in yours while it started to pour. And oh did it pour! It rained like crazy and I was drenched. My glasses were impossible to see through, clothes were plastered to my skin, hair wet and wild and hitting me in the face and splattering me with water when I turned my head too fast. I could have gone home with you. We could have gone in and changed clothes and had a coffee together in newly found warmth. But if we had run through the rain together, I wouldn’t have run through it laughing to myself. I ran alone and squished and splashed and laughed and laughed! I would not have laughed so much.

We would have run, we would stop. I would look up into your eyes and put my hands in yours and our eyes would meet. Our lips would meet. But a sweet kiss in the rain was not on my agenda.

Running and jumping and leaping, I hopped through puddles. Mascara ran down my face like the raindrops that drip-dropped down my body. I should have been uncomfortable but I was too free to care. Giggles escaped my throat like the rain which escaped the sewer grates and gutters to flood the street. Now it was really pouring.

When I turned around, so close to changing my mind- running after you… catching up, I saw how you walked away; head down, headphones in. My grin from ear to ear squished down to its smallest form. The storm stopped overhead as if time would end momentarily and all there was to do was stand still. So I stood. Drenched and frowning, my hood fell down from where it once stood atop my head. In that moment, I looked like you. Head down, headphones in, walking and not running in the rain.

Turning on my heel, I stole one last look. All I could see was sadness.

The clouds got darker, thunder boomed. Heavy and heavier drops began to fall. My hood, once my protector from wet became a bucket where water would collect. It was so heavy. My clothes were drenched and boots sloshed in the road. Any inch of space was soaked. The clouds were overwhelming.

With miles to go, miles and miles from home, I turned my face to the sky. If only I had windshield wipers on my glasses and for my eyes to wipe away raindrops that felt like tears! Thunder roared and wind whipped but my gaze was steady and my body was still- facing the storm which danced above me. I couldn’t bring my gaze back down to Earth where water ran and mud brewed in the grass underneath me. I mourned my time in dryness; when we were together. When my heart could breath. With rain pouring and in the stillness of the moment, my chest was wet and cold. My heart beat slowly like the pound of thunder every other minute. Thunder vibrated through my arteries and back through my veins.

My heart hated this moment- my toes were too numb. Blood had to pump faster or my poor organ feared we would not survive the storm…

When I turned my head in your direction, you were gone. Surely not dry but finally on my way to dryness, I walked. Slowly but surely down the road, I walked, like the blood which slowly began to flow again under the shell of moisture which encased my body. Faster and faster, my boots hit the concrete. No water which flowed or clouds which rumbled with thunder that boomed could stop me from getting home. Home where my wet body and wet heart and wet hair would be back in the place that I used to love most- solitude.

Without you, I danced in the rain. Alone again, I found rhythm in the raindrops as they fell around me. Heavy clouds parted slightly to make heavy drops into mere drips. The pitter patter of drizzle as day turned to night was the perfect. It was still raining but I could feel my toes again. I looked forward to every puddle and in every puddle I would dance. I walked a thousand miles away from you. No, a kiss in the rain was not on my agenda.

I tore off little pieces of my soul,

and wrote them on napkins, gum wrappers, and shitty hotel stationary.

I gave them to you, little bits at a time, for safe keeping,

because I wanted you to have them, I thought you needed them.

I gave them away, all of them.

I don't know if you kept them.

You never asked for them, and you never gave me any words back.

I thought if I gave you enough, if you had the only parts of me worth having,

that I would be enough. That the little papers, tattered though they were, had words that were pretty enough to make your heart sing. That you would sing for me.

It's so silent here, and I've run out of paper,

there's no ink, and I cannot write.

So my soul has withered, and I've forgotten all my words.