by Bright Green
good girls go to die;
That's where I'll be,
Remembering our love as if it were a disease.
Forget about the future,
it wasn't meant to last..."
-- London After Midnight, "Where Good Girls Go to Die"
I was sprawled out among the strawberry incense sticks that were smouldering in their clay holders. She sat, propped up against the wall, a disposable razor in her hand.
"It's like a toy." I said absent mindedly, gesturing to the pink plastic razor with my lollipop. She smiled shyly, gazing at me through thick lashes. I licked my candy.
"Your tongue is blue." She noted. I smiled and closed my eyes, breathing in the strawberry smoke.
I drifted among the pink tendrils with a blue planet of sugar on my tongue. Through the haze I heard the musical snap of a razor head breaking. I inhaled strawberry fields deep into my lungs.
My semi-consciousness slowly evolved into full conscienceness. I opened my eyes slowly and stretched, noting absently that the girl in the corner was decorating her arm with cuts.
I turned over and propped myself up next to her, taking her wrist in my left hand. She never cut to kill. Stars and hearts and poetry scarred up and down her arms. With my right hand, I rolled my lollipop gently into her fresh cuts, accenting the blue with a splash of red.
"Patriotism." I noted, showing her the color scheme formed by the blue candy, the red of her blood, and the white paper stick. "Is overrated." I finished, letting go of her wrist and sticking the candy back into my mouth. I bit down hard, cracking the shell and exposing the pink insides.
Stroking her cheek, I touched her pink lips with my sticky blue ones. She sat, unresponsive and bleeding. Lusty for reaction, I shoved my tongue into her mouth, then withdrew suddenly. I filled the empty space in her open mouth with the cracked lollipop.
I felt emotion swell in me, pinch my heart. I pushed the emotion into her, pinching her arm. She squirmed and I squeezed harder. Her blood welled up in the cuts, reddening my hand.
I pushed pain into her, a representation of my love. Her love spilled out of her on her blood, smearing onto me. I wanted to make more room for me in her, so I picked up a tiny razor blade and pushed it into the pale skin of her arm. She stared at me with glass eyes, sucking at the candy. I dragged the blade up her arm lightly, leaving a tiny trail of blood. Deeper I explored into her, until she was whining and tears dripped from her eyes.
"Don't cry. It makes you look ugly." I told her, angry that she would interrupt my sensuality with her tears. I threw down the razor blade and left her to scab.
Sorry if it sucks. Haven't had much inspiration lately.