I am a little too alone.
I feel breath on my neck, maybe grateful for the force of his hand around my arm, Because I am lost but he knows where to go.
We’re tucked away, it’s quiet in the pink, pink in my eyes, it’s all pink, black.
Hand still around my arm, tighter this time. Now I’m spinning.
Can someone help me stop spinning?
His body forces mine against rocks, blanching the delicate skin on my back.
I watch the crimson trickle slowly down my thigh and onto his hand.
His raging breath dances out and is caught in my hair.
It smells like cigarettes.
I’m shaking from the chill
He doesn’t like that. Twist harder. Hit. Hit.
My tongue is met with rusty sweat as his hand covers my face.
He can’t look at my face.
His fingers press deeply into my chest, squeeze.
Smells like cigarettes, his teeth meet my neck.
Nimble fingers paint my skin pink, red, purple.
As my eyes submit and drop closed I tear away from his grip in the pink and black.
But my limbs are sand, at once heavy and delicate,
As though a breeze might send me crumbling. I’m trying not to crumble.
And as my eyelids flutter his body is still tangled in mine
My body sparkles with pink, red, purple, more vibrant with each parched breath.
Am I crying out?
Tastes like cigarettes.
I’ve never had a cigarette.
My chest bubbles with panic so turbulent it courses through my body like
A wave, he crashes into me, neck damp as his trials have spent him.
He pulls away from me, his hands tighter around my thighs
My pillars of sand give way and send me to the ground
I wrench my eyes up towards the pink light and find his instead,
Weak blue moons that glow without feeling.
He reaches down and shoves my face into the concrete,
He doesn’t want to see it, varnished with hot tears.
Outside the pink and black it is still too loud.
Pink and red, and purple and blue perfect hands on my legs, arms, face.
My sand-filled limbs carry me to the street and into a cab.
The driver's eyes search my own and then drop, ashamed.
He says nothing.