from first to last.
my fingertips graced her pale, starry skin. my breath was july and her neck was the 4th. i kept my fingers circling her hips as i slowly swept my face across hers, our lips barely touching like strangers brushing shoulders. i swear to god her lips were like the simplest pastel drawing that no one had ever seen. and that made me want to add some reds and blues just to see what it would do.
i slid my fingers upward, arching them and spreading my fingers like wildfire before resting my hand on the heart of her stomach. breathe in. breathe out. breathe in. breathe out. we opened our eyes.
“i think i love you.”
i don’t know who said it. i don’t know if it was me or her. it didn’t matter. in the dark, a reply escaped.
“i think i love you, too.”
my right arm was resting on my elbow. i lifted it, sliding my left leg over the top of hers for support, and brought my hand up to the side of her face. my fingers disappeared behind the dark blond curtain, and i let my hand fall victim to the touch of her skin.
we kissed.
and it was so i intense and bright, it hurt. it made my head hurt. it made my body ache like i had aged 50 years. it made my bones and muscles atrophy.
i clenched my jaw tight like i had a secret i wanted to forget. everything i felt began to fade away, but the light in her eyes intensified and brightened until i thought i might catch fire if i didn’t look away. i closed my eyes.
i opened my eyes in a flash and i was staring down. my hands were resting in my lap and they were covered in blood. my forehead had an extra appendage in the form of my steering wheel. i tongued around inside of my mouth and felt the pool of blood. i opened my mouth and it was like i opened the floodgates to a slaughterhouse. blood poured out along with spit and snot and vomit and teeth and chunks of i’m sure what used to be vital organs. it covered my hands and jeans. i could smell gasoline.
i couldn’t move my head from the steering wheel, but i was able to turn and look to the passenger seat. she was crumpled up on the dash with the crown of her head smashed in the windshield. her hair was all swept forward. her arms were extended down and pressed against the glove compartment. her seat had rocketed up and slammed her in the dash and windshield. her legs were still attached to her body, but that’s all that could be said for them. at that moment i realized why people called arms or legs their limbs.
i brought my drenched hands up and grabbed the steering wheel hard. i pushed against it with everything i had left inside of me, which, judging by what i threw up wasn’t much, and moved my aching body backward until it came to an involuntary rest against what was left of my seat. i lifted my right arm and brought it over to her body, hoping to god that she wasn’t stuck in the windshield too bad so that what little strength i had would be enough to pull her out and back into her seat.
and it was barely enough.
she slung back and slumped in her seat, eyes closed, mouth open, head severely bleeding. she was still wearing her seat belt. her lips were colored with reds and blues, and i didn’t like what those colors could do right then.
unfinished.
