Butterfly kisses

July 8, 2009
By Anonymous

All he knew was the rough of brick pressed against the back of his t-shirt.
Red it was. The memory creeping into his mind right then (odd); of when his mother brought it home for him, angry words, then he threw it into the dark of his closet for later.
Later was now.
And he shoved the thought into annihilation. All he wanted was now.
And now was her. Finally, he had her. And as he held her, crushed her really, he felt her.
Her hip bones jutted into his, created soft bruises for later.
His happy reminder. And her scent gathered around him until it was all he knew.
The bricks.
Her scent.
Her bones, and even more the soft of her stomach against his.

And her breath whispering in his ears. Butterfly kisses.


It was all I could do to hold myself, and her, at the same time without melting into nothing, or everything, as I feared, but so desperately wanted.
She was everything I wanted
After all these days, she didn’t know it, but I would do anything for her. So would every other guy in the school, but I had her. Me. And here she was, irrevocably mine.
Now was not the time to think of what I had done, though. All I could think was, Oh god. Oh god.

In embarrassment I found out I wasn’t just thinking it, I was saying it. A laugh traces across her face.
Seemingly her emotion jumps to my lips in a new form, embarrassment.

“Its ok, I'm thinking it also,” she laughs back.

I slide my hands across her back. My pulse quickens in wonder. When will it come? The sharp reality? Waiting, waiting, finally I am at the point of no return. And in I plunge.
She laughs as her waitresses uniform falls to the pavement. The jangling of tips chase a thought to my mind. How is it a t-shirt and black pants can be so damn beautiful?
And I tell her so ,and that seems to be it. All the sudden she’s mine ,and I’m holding her. All of her. And it seems like you cant get one second closer, but then you feel another centimeter of skin.

“You know how this looks.”


“You know we’ll get caught.”
“Yeah..” this time the response spurts electricity through my veins. Fight or flight instinct rushed in.
I rush on.

“You know we look guilty as hell.”

No answer this time, just a giggle that roles from her chest and lands safely in my arms. And I love it, and I love her. And I tell her so. I tell her everything, and I tell her the world.
I don’t know how long its been, just long enough to know that her break is long over.
But I don’t care, because I’m holding her. And she’s holding me. Finally in one long last breath, I feel her face against mine.
Its not a delicate kiss, the ones that dominate last scenes in movies. No. this is her in my own my everything but me. An intake of breathe ravages across my entire body frame. It punches a shiver through my every cells. And I pull away, her earrings catch in my hair, and slice across my face. One drop of blood touches her face, but she doesn’t see.
Her eyes so close to mine. She blinks and smiles. Her eyelashes skating lines across my face. Oh god.
“You know what that is?”
Her eyes opening and close. I watch pupils narrow then widen, my face just a blur of reflection.
Blink. the beat of a heart, hers or mine, I cant tell.
Soft touch a lost feather. Oh god.
“That’s a butterfly kiss.”
And I lean till I feel the pressure of her lips against my lashes. And blink.
“Butterfly kisses.”
“Dammit Sarah!! There you.. what the hell.. what are you doing? Sarah this was your last chance. I have plenty of other people just begging for your job, and I can tell you they wont make me put up with s*** from all your boyfriends!”
I feel a sudden wall of icy air as her manager rips her from my arms and yanks her into the building.
Its like watching a wide screen movie behind the fogging glass door, as the manager speaks, yells at Sarah. Spit flies from his mouth, touching on walls, counters. Her face. I question the health code.
Slowly he calms down, and I watch the bobbing of her pony tail as she talks to him.
In one last jab of his finger, her thrusts her rumpled uniform into her chest and stalks away.
Glancing back out the door, she snatches up my gaze. Its then that it see myself in the musty glass, a wide spilt of grin upon my face.
Then those magic words are written all over her mouth, her lips, her watermelon lip gloss and on the inside of my teeth. “Call me.”


And its exactly 24 minutes later that I decide. Its while I'm high off monster caffeine and her body. And her smell. While I’m high off her.
Standing under a buzzing quick trip light, I feel the drinks last tingle down my throat. I lean against the Sedans door and count my lucky stars. Because the sky is full of them tonight.
I toss away the can, and hop back into the car. Glancing in the mirror, I wonder if my story is written on my face. But all I can see is a touch of swelling on my lips from my last kiss.
Because I've decided ill do her one better, I won’t call, ill wait for her.
Foot rides the gas heavy, even though her shift lasts another 2 and a half hours.
2 and a half hours.
For her.
For this.
For butterfly kisses.


And all he knew was the rough brick pressing into his spine. He waited, his tension rising. Foot tapping, glancing at his cell phone. Counting down seconds, and finally the last minutes of 5..4..3..2.. then curfew passed. He set his phone to silent.
It seemed like eternity, as people passed by. None gave the slumped scraggly boy(man?) a glance. Finally, the steps and scoffing grunt of the manager as her stepped up to lock the glass door. “ She wont be out for a few minutes, she's got cleanup.” With another grunt, he walked away.
Counting counting, counting. With each breathe, excitement rose until it pulsed through his body, rising hot, waiting.
And then fear.
The tension of wanting. Wanting her, and wanting to be good enough. music beat through his mind skin nerves.
And then, voices. Her voice. From where he sat on the cracked weathered pavement, he watched her old heals stepping towards the door.
And then. Shoes. A second pair. Converse, right at his eye level
Caught up in studying the canvas stitching, he paused. Blinked.
And missed an eternity.
Up. And all he saw was her. And him. Wrapped together as one. Their hands groping to find one another. Clutching each other. And her back pushed against he door. And out stepped the owner of converse. The owner of Sarah.
Legs tangled as one, one hand snaked out of the embrace to click the keys to unlock his car.
In a few stumbled steps back, she stepped on his feet, now just one second ago where he had sat. And he saw everything.
Their eyes were shut. And the man held her close.
But too late, he wanted to scream at the unnamed man to keep his tongue out of her mouth. Don’t touch her. Don’t have her. She’s mine. Mine.



I watched my own tears fill in the carvings of the old scarred pick nick table.
I couldn’t cry. No. No. Who had I been kidding? Who was I? Nothing. Nothing to her.
S***. The words escape into my mind before I can stop them.
S***, w****, b****.
And I beat out the words with my fist onto he table until a darker smudge appears in the wood, and I touch my hand to my tongue.
In taking my own blood. Unbearable to lose one more amount of me. The me who had her.
Who had nothing.
From the night, I watch across the park. To the writhing group of people who dominate the nightscape.
Tonight, they found a cat.
Wandering daily. Searching for love, food.
And I watch as the lure it in, coaxing.
Then the shrill scream of pain.
Unnecessary pain.
My pain.

And I find myself back in the car, and tires crushing carefully groomed lawn.
Their white dawned faces show bright in my lights, they rush forward, no I drive forward. In one scrambling motion, the people disappear into the night.
My night.
Deaths night. As I carefully pick up the limp life of fur. Blood stains my hands, not mine any more.
What was.

walking into he dining room, I view the stunned faces. Paused like that of a TV screen. Punishment and love in hand, my mother rushes to me.
In her stance, I can imagine how I look.
Clothing, hair in complete disarray.
Blood stains my clothes. More then just my own. Eyes wild.
And I hand her the dead cat, walk past my dad and enter my bedroom.


Alone finally, he stripped off all clothes in a desperate attempt to rid himself of her, her scent. Her being. He skin cells that cling to his own fervid skin.
His hand found its way to the cold surface of his cell phone.
His numbed fingers skated across the small bumps of numbers.
“Hey! Well, I'm not here right now, so leave me a message I’ll get back to Ya! Later!”
the click of a smile.
And he waited. Silence filled his mind, mouth. Room. Finally, the phone cut off, ending his silence for him.

Screw you.

And inches away from his rooms mirror, he scathed his face. Then, on the very corner of one cheek. Dark hatches rise in perfect lines.




The lines smudged under a rough finger.
The sounds of breaking glass gave his worried mother reason to finally turn the knob of his door.
Mirror broken.
Blood dripped from his fist.
And Sarah’s damned butterfly kisses.

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