You take me to a field.
Overgrown with weeds, grass, and wildflowers with a mind of their own.
Our fingers make 10 promises as you lead me barefoot through the brush.
You chose a dark starry night with the moon to oversee our ventures.
Pulling me through,
I lift the hem of my dress in an attempt to save it from stains.
Your feet stop.
“This is it.”
Pulling me to my knees,
The bare ground tickles me fancy.
I look up to see you towering over me, with the moon as my witness.
You push my arms over my head,
Tugging my dress,
Shrugging it down my shoulders.
Exposing me to the Earth—
I feel everything.
The grass, the stars, your every exhale, and the hiss of a snake. (Somewhere in the night with us.)
You smile down at me, and of course,
I smile back.
I start to speak,
You push your hand over me.
“You mustn’t speak.”
Your eyes glow yellow in the dark.
A flash of regret and guilt flutters into my heart.
“Are you sure we should do this?”
He reaches to shed his shirt, molting layer after layer,
Revealing new skin, cold to the touch.
Pressed against me, bare.
Out of the crook of his neck:
I see the stars.
Blinking, flickering, dancing for me.
You create a new woman out of me.
Clearing at dirt, grabbing at grass, and gasping at the sight of seeing stars.
Crickets sing into the night, frogs croak a melodic ballad, and the birds whistle in their sleep.
A chorus of the night.
Snakes hiss join in.
You use me anyway you want.
“You mustn’t tell anyone.”
I seal my lips with the taste of a red kiss.
As the moon grows tired of the night,
The sun peaks into our world.
You lift me up, slipping my dress back onto my shoulders.
Zipping me up with ease.
I look down to see it tainted with green grass and brown Earth.
‘Was it worth it?’
I sigh, but smile.
Our hands meet again for our last ten promises as you lead me again through the brush.
Through tall grass, tired weeds, and wild flowers.
You lead me out into the sun.
“Here is where we part, my love.”
“Will I see you again?”
“Only on your darkest days.”
You kiss me again.
The shakes hiss and night choir sings. Angelic.
Gone with the night.
I turn for home.
(Wherever that is.)
“Where were you, my other half?”
“I was with the night.”
“What’s that in your hands, darling?”
As if magic, I feel an object pressed against my palm.
(The palm that once held you.)
I slowly open up, breaking our promise.
I reveal the only remnant of our night:
A red apple.
With a fresh bite missing,
My mouth tingles wet.