the wound i helped you make

I was looking forward to it- being in the same room with you. The moment I walked in, I could only see your eyes, and I thought they were smiling at me. That was all I could see. Those lashes that seized me breathless.

I stood closer, waiting for you, and then it began. You knew you were in control, and I yielded, willingly. Your commands were decisive, yet gentle.

There were times when you leaned on me; you seemed to smoothly wipe your forehead on my shoulder.

You said something, but your words were muffled. I drew myself closer. I looked straight into your eyes, but I couldn’t understand. Suddenly, it hit me. Could it be? Were those words of admiration that you just uttered? I tried to make sense out of it. You realized I didn’t understand, and once again you said those words I thought could’ve given me hope. You said them clearly the second time. I heard you, and I realized you were just asking me to pull, and pull I did. There were no proclamations of undying affection, just a simple order, nothing more. It was like suddenly feeling a dagger strike me.

It began to bleed. That’s what happens when you cut someone, in whatever manner. I knew that before, but it still surprised me. Everybody bleeds, I told myself.

You asked how I was doing. I couldn’t answer immediately, I wasn’t sure if I heard you right this time. I just smiled. You didn’t see it, you couldn’t. You must’ve thought I was ignoring you. And of course I wasn’t ignoring you. How could I? When you’re too close I could feel you breathe– your arm constantly brushing against mine.

What began as a shallow cut has become deeper. You wanted to go deeper. For a moment, I thought you hesitated. But you did what you had to do.

Minutes seemed like days. Everything at a standstill. The silence between the songs in your player seemed longer. For a while, no words were exchanged.

Before I knew it, you said, we’re almost done now. I knew you were looking at me, but somehow I felt it wasn’t me you were talking to. It was almost over, but the moment was already stamped in my memory.

Briefly, our fingers touched. I pulled away. In everything you did, you managed to put me in perpetual blush. But I know my place. A second of ecstasy followed by an hour of misery.

I felt as if my head was floating, dreaming, delaying the inevitable, wishing for a different ending.

I looked at the wound I helped you make. It will heal, I told myself. But the scar will remain, I countered.

You took another second; looking at your work… it was just another accomplishment. I wish I could treat it as casually as you did. I wish I could tell you. But it was too late, you walked away. Gloves off, you removed your mask, you turned around and said, “Sige, scrub out ka na, pasend na lang sa surgical patho yung specimen. Thanks.”

-end

~ by burntend on September 28, 2008.