Behind closed eyes

Am I forgetting how to love?

That question echoes inside my head, as i'm standing with shaky legs; my entire body is trembling. I hear your voice, mumbling something I cannot understand. I see you take a step forward, then two, and three, closing the small distance between us. But all I want is to cry. My eyes hot with tears.

Your skin touches mine.

I can fell the garments slip off my skin; the attack of chilly air makes me shiver. In cold. In fear. In despair. In self-hatred. Like I want to rip my skin from this body, shredding it into pieces, destroying it into nothingness.

Your breath tickles my ear. And I hold my ground, refusing to fall. Your hands start to wander around. I try not to flinch away. Your arms envelope me. They pull us closer and closer. Tighter. My weak-willed fingers clutch your shoulders. Hard. My nails probably will leave marks. I wish they leave marks. I want you to feel this pain. I want you to bleed, too. I want you to know this sorrow. I close my eyes, hoping it will erase the sight of you. But all I see is your face. Even in the darkness behind my lids.

So I cry.

Cry and beg and sob and plead. I find no way out. You're like a ghost, following me. Haunting me. You give me nowhere to escape. 

But why can't us be real?

z. d. imama