Written By Elton Cole.
They didn’t want me. Eyes of glass rested upon their sneer while observing my fingers holding tight hers. I still have their jasmine scent under my nose. I left their house embarrassed, but with my head up high, although the weight of their world was more than enough to bear along with the weight of her body clinging on to mine while kissing me hard to gain strength to exit their door. I left her back to explain. She felt it was her duty to defend her role as a soldier to the battlefield they thought I had exposed her to. Her being my armor, I found it hard to dictate my steps not to feel wounded. I had to find the way out despite the bleeding of my injuries. But I knew I couldn’t go far. Far from her. So I spilled my blood across the shore for her to come and find me when her ceasefire agreements would final.
The moon is high tonight, the tides are creeping closer and closer to shore, cascading through the sand. Pushing. Pulling. Like the strings between us. Further each day. I wonder if the moon has the same effect on them. As it gets higher maybe the stars sit back and laugh at the ongoing tragedy and misfortune between our love and their world.
Perhaps the moon wants something like we do. The one stolen from us long ago when two worlds collided and perhaps this ocean of battles, injuries, hardships and prohibitions is as close as we’ll ever get to feel again. Be alive again and remain that way.
What do they know about life? What do they know not to want me? What do they know about the balance I feel when her feet rest on top of mine as we lay in bed, tired and breathless after an all-night penetration in her body. What do they know about how her scratchy voice sounds as it utters the first words of the day, warm, naked, and drowsy beside me? What do they know about the way her body naturally presses against mine as I hold her close when we dance? What do they know of my wishes and her prayers to remain like that for as long as it lasts, despite the walls rising around us?
They know nothing about our victory’s glory to be together. Sometimes you can still catch me dancing in it among gladiator sounds and her chest as my gleaming sword on the floor.
I forge a new type of life every time she takes her clothes off and she embraces it with deep carrying breaths. Their echo preserves our home solid. We have entrusted the one and only God that beats inside our bodies, as we kiss the fiery holy cross we carry on our necks, which then bursts all at once into brilliant flames, to keep us that way.
There she is. She followed my bloody traces. I adjust my eyes to the darkness of hers and we both see clearly, our scars, open wounds and casualties are soothed as we stay in each other’s arms longer than they can stand to watch from their window. The sight demolishes their fortress and enhances ours, until the next battle.
Winners always know that the war doesn’t ever end with the defeat of the enemy.
It ends when you’ve found your ally.
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