Marco Pollo
I move next to Demi in bed with yet another coffee cup in my grasp while Demi's nimble fingertips sheltered the warmth in hers like it was the only fire in the forest. Soft music made of softer voices played quietly in the background from the Bose speaker. The only reason I could hear it was because of the very uncomfortable silence between the two of us. With every thigh sized crawl I take her eyes follow me like a spotlight. That spotlight isn't about the shining of an artificial sun but the dark side of the moon Demi is engulfed in. They drag across my face, painting her curiosity along the walls and knitting desire into the bedsheets. Her grim expression foreshadowed beginnings of things I didn't want to know the ending to.
We sit their, side by side with our backs on the sturdy headboard while drinking coffee that's too hot. Demi likes hers with just cream. According to her, it goes down smoother and the colour isn't so morbid. I like mine black, the darkness keeps me in focus and the bitterness nips my tastebuds as I swallow the liquid pins and needles. We both find interest in our feet, once tangled in the sheet and each other to keep warm. Now we force them to fight through the storm, cold and alone.
"Are we ever going to talk or are we going to drown ourselves in silence", Demi asks, watching me with a frown.
"Sometimes drowning in silence is better. It gives extreme actions a chance to come and inspire us to tread water".
"You can only tread water for so long-"
I look at Demi as she fades her words and blurs them into the background , glaring sombrely at the cup below her like she did at the diner. Lately, her chocolate eyes have been melting, falling to the ground as if Gravity was holding them hostage. She's been shrinking so there would be space between us and she'd have a better chance to get the fire extinguisher before I burned to a crisp after bursting into flames. My temper always keeps my temperature and her tension high. I bet if you sat me under the rope keeping her composure under wraps it would burn through and Demi would become a match in the night. With all the darkness there would be her running around while angrily yelling into the void about all the things she can no longer stand. I'd be the bonfire, big and steady, but not containing the energy to do anything that makes me burn so bright.
"Before energy has drowned itself before you. All that's left to do is, just, sink like an anchor in the ocean without a boat to keep company".
Demi looks up and into my eyes. Raw honestly takes ahold of her gaze and she takes our cups and carefully places them down on the nightstand beside her with the same gentleness that caress my hands afterwards. "Please tell me we're still talking about silence".
I smile, looking at the pretty black nails that twist and turn within my palms. I look into her eyes, which she quickly tries to dodge but I move wherever they go. "Please don't tell me you're trying to run away without moving".
Demi pushes her gaze back to me, her pupils growing, dancing as her head turns away from the light to look at me. She gives me a hairpin smile. One that creases her eyes and extends her cheeks. The night sky stream of freckles show in all their glory like the stars on a cloudless midnight. I can see the galaxy in her face. Her brown specks are the Milky Way, her eyes are stars, and her mouth is the great, beautiful beyond.
"I've been writing something for you", I say softly, as if my voice is running away from its purpose. Demi's head tilts slightly, her smile faltering until it gives way and curls down at the edges. She knows I didn't just say that to introduce a new topic. However, she's aware that pushing me right now could tear apart everything so she leaves it at a funny look and let's me carry on.
"What is it?", she asks.
"It's a poem", I smile again. I remove the paper from the bedside table beside me and take a deep breath. I wanted to write a song and sing it to her. However, a bad voice in A cappella only makes for two negatives. Therefore, I decided to stick to my strengths.
"When I was a child, things were easy, as they should be. I would listen to music in the dark with my friends that lived next door. I felt my way around to swing on every swing set. My favourite however, was playing Marco Pollo.
Then, in the middle of the fun and games, preschool began. My mother would say have fun Natalie meanwhile, the underworld is tearing me apart inside out while five year olds coloured in pictures I could not see. I could not see anything, and I was not aware until then that this was not just a-
I'm eighteen years old, going through the same motions every day. Anything and everything is done for me so I listen to some extra mouthpiece in the television set explain what I cannot see. My friends take care of me because my family-
I came out to my kin when I was fourteen. It was grandma's sixty third birthday party and my uncle shouted from afar a question about my romantic status. I simply responded, 'nope, no girlfriend yet but I'm looking as much as I can'. This was a double whammy because I was already a disappointment that I was blind, female, and not able to do anything for myself. The hands of God had formed a throwaway being to show others life is not perfect, yet it is precious. While some people may have it bad, being the blind runt in the family isn't exactly a picnic either.
I stopped liking childish games. I was sick of all my disadvantages being used against me. They had all along, I just hadn't seen it coming. The cheaters and the hustlers all gathered to play a joke on the blind girl with not enough space in her head to pound in all the disses tossed my way on a silver platter. I could not see any harm done so there was no foul."
I check on Demi, glancing into her eyes that were perfectly fixated on my lips. Her hands were folded in her lap as she held her own hand.
"I met her when I was eighteen. She fell on me while she was running on the beach. We didn't see each other. I knew the second she said hello I needed her. I could not live without the steadiness of her words as they vibrated through her. I would not sleep at night without the strong soul beside me. I would not breathe without the heartbeat mine sang to. While she brushed off the sand on her kneecaps I lost all air in my lungs as if the laugh escaping her lips was using my breath. I didn't need to see something to believe beauty was real for the first time. I was alright with that though she always-
I'm sitting in a hospital, my girlfriend at my side while the white bandages are the only thing that prevent us from locking our first gaze. When it was removed I couldn't contain myself. My own body was too small for all the light and beauty it had been deprived of. Her, her eyes were a colour I could not describe because, of course, I didn't know what a colour was. Her lips stretched as she smiled at me through the tattooed hand caught over her mouth. I was not sure what she saw but I saw the future. It had dancing and laughing and kissing and a forever that was to come as time went by. I wanted her. I needed her more than-
The ride was quiet, my head resting on the girl I loved endlessly in the backseat of the car while my slightly drunk friend mumbles to himself if the passenger and-
I still can't move. I've been in here for weeks, but I've been there for the same amount of time. All I hear is the twisting of metal and the shouts and hollers of a drunken mess while another try's to turn the wheel away from our attacker. She's over me, taking pieces of broken windowpane all over to protect me. The only thought I have as I sit under the kitchen sink is how I could have and I should have saved him. The breaks were screeching in response to him trying to save us while I was held down by someone blinded by love so they could not see the purpose up front. Purpose was getting hit with a weight. Purpose had a hunk of metal meant to make one stronger inside him. Purpose was crucified in the hospital. Now he is dead. I must be nearsighted because no matter how hard I try to see normally nothing is foreseen until it's too late. I need-
My father died when I was twelve. I knew I could have done something more, even though I'm not sure what. He had a seizure in the garage while we were getting rakes for the yard. I only heard a crash and a gurgling but I didn't know what it was and when I asked my father I could not hear him. He was choking on his own tongue when someone walking by saw. I was shunned by a complete stranger for just 'standing and staring'. From then on I knew-
We sit at a diner. She's always telling me what I'm doing wrong. She's always scolding me like my mother would. She would yell at me while I'm just trying to help. I'm always useless. I'm so afraid I'll do something wrong that I do nothing at all. I just feel the earth turning as lives end in synch with each other. I love her and I do everything I can but-
My mother was a bear. She would growl and maul anything that blinked at her the wrong way. Poking the bear wasn't necessary, step too loud and she's on you, clawing every piece of love and humanity she could scratch. The blood within was cold and poisoned, the monster in the closet was never shame or sexuality. It was her words as they forced blood out of my pores. It was the looks I could feel on me even though I could not see them. The cool skin covering her boney fingers touching me without permission prickled my skin like a knife dancing around my throat at all times.
My whole life has been repeating itself. Everyone sees the light show but all I can do is sing to the music. Everyone runs carefree while I slap every part of a swing just to know its a swing. We all play Marco Pollo but I'm always being Marco. Whether I can see it or not does not matter. I can never see and I am always hunting in the darkness. I want her but I can't see her. I want my father but I can't see him. I want purpose but he has resigned. I want me, but I don't know me anymore".
She sits there, unmoving, while I do the same. I cannot read the expression spread across her featured so I am left bewildered. I have no clue what to make of the twisted expression and misty eyes. Demi then wipes the mist away and takes a deep breath.
"You've never told me that before"
"It's not exactly a great conversation starter", I smile. Demi smiles too, but it was withheld.
"I don't want you to feel like Pollo again".
"Then don't let me. I don't like feeling around to find you. I've done enough of that".
With that, Demi kissed me as hard as she could and I believed that no matter what, we'd be Marcos together.
----------------------------------------------lol that was horrendous. I'll tune it up eventually. Not exactly the easiest thing to write. Almost done though.
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