tigersaint

the twenty-second night:

listen, i am tired and cold. i am bleeding, my muscles ache. i am going to curl up alone on the floor tonight, the headphones cupping my ears like the hands of a lover in a soft kiss.

there is so much more to tell you, of arguments and tearing pages out of books, of secret notes slipped to strangers and logic proofs written across my back with a pen that sticks every third character.

of the man who wouldn't fuck me, but made love to me by covering my body with flower petals. he placed rose petals on my nipples, navel and eyelids, a lily between my thighs, lavendar in my hair. he pressed ch erry blossoms into my palms and left star jasmine lining my lips like a constellation.

he didn't touch me but read to me from his favorite books. he made a study of my face and asked me to outline for him the faded birthmarks i have that leave tiger stripes along my nose and cheek--this is where i get my name.

but as it's said--all things in time.

i am leaving this home in the morning, i think i have found a place to go where i can set up some paints and canvas, maybe sell some of the few things i have to buy a bed.

i probably won't be back for a week or longer, though i could get lucky.

i'll be writing it all down. the parts that do not make it into letters i will post here.

and if you want letters, contact me and i will send them to you.