In my dream last night I was led to an deep blue pool of water, hundreds of thousands of feet below a mountain. In that cave room (the walls were lined with Edison bulbs and draped with twisted and tangled fairy lights) the walls were charcoal with flecks of quartz and limestone. When I floated on my back I felt like the stalactites were going to fall from the ceiling and slice through my bare stomach. I was naked, because I didn’t have a swimsuit and the thought of swimming in my bra and underwear depressed me.
I was looking for her. Her hair was cloudy and black, her eyes were almost as dark as her hair. She wasn’t wearing anything either but her skin held onto the water from the pool like glitter. Like candy. I wanted to lap up the liquid that gathered in the crook of her arm and the small cavern on her collarbone. I wanted her to think I was beautiful.
I was looking for her but today I’m still thinking of him. I see him everywhere: his beard on someone else’s chin, his sunglasses shading someone else’s eyes. The strong, lean length of his body pressing up against someone else’s thigh. She might sigh and say how lovely, but how much do they all want me? If he were mine I wouldn’t say a word. For once my voice would be still and quiet. For once I would fully submit.
