Blood cells blossom on my neck. Teeth and tongue have stained my skin with this impermanent badge of hollow honour, which I wear with a sweep of nature's rouge on each cheek.
Under this love bitten blemish an ugly little thrill breeds and travels underground, like a pinball in a flashing arcade game. This thrill, this fickle friend, I think he looks for you; in the curve of my spine, in the shallow pool of my belly's button, on the tip of a nippled mountain. Come thrill me again.
But you fade. Like the love bite, you fade. And when the human mark is washed away, all that can remain is the shadow of your soul on my bed sheets, and the unbearable tightening of skin in the moments between sleeping and waking, when the moonlight plays it's mind tricks, and I realise you aren't here at all.
Grace Edwards
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