Theme Thursday - Surface

I feel the warmth of the sun gently caressing my skin, a million little butterflies alighting on my arms, my thighs, my belly. The roar of the ocean in my ears echoing the depth of your desire. The course sand rubbing my lower back raw, but I don't care. All that matters is that you are with me, and we are one.

The alarm signals the demise of my dreams. I reflexively hit the snooze as I hover near the surface of wakefulness, unwilling to accept the reality that is my life. I roll over and see the one I am bound to, the one that is not you. I try to go back to the beach, but it's no use, the city breathes of life, of desolation. I wake fully to endure yet another day.

After he leaves I log on. I know I shouldn't, but I can't resist. The light in your eyes leaves me feeling drugged. Your smile leaves me breathless and weak. The only images I can find are the ones that have her though. She feigns innocence, but her eyes mock me. I see her laughing at me. She knows she has the one thing I desire, yet she refuses to let you go. Can't she see what it is between us? Can't she see that she is tearing me apart?

I don't despair for long. I have a plan. I must admit it's a little outrageous. It's not something I would normally do. What is it that they say though? Yes, that's it. All's fair in love and war. I'm not sure which one this is, but I'm willing to risk everything for you.

Throughout the day I go over ever detail of the plan, all the contingencies, everything that could go wrong and how I should react. I plan our dinner, I plan an evening of fun, I plan to show him that I care. Then, and only then, will my ultimate plan come into effect.

As evening drones on towards night I suggest going to bed. I let him do what he wants, it's the least I can give him. He knows he's not the one I desire, but I fake it as well as I can. After what seems like an eon he is finally done. He rolls over, and I wait patiently until he begins to snore. It wont be long.

Finally. Finally I hear the rhythmic breathing next to me signaling his slumber. I know this is it. It's either now or never. I reach under the mattress where I placed the 10 inch blade from the kitchen. I grip the wooden hilt, I say a prayer to St Dwynwen, the patron saint of lost loves, in hopes that he'll help me find mine. I take a deep breath. I see my reflection in the metal as I raise the knife in an arc above my head. This one is for you, lover. Next time, it'll be her. Then we will be together. Forever.