Fifth Wheel -- Summer 2003

Even pressed between the bodies, I am alone. Heartbeats out of synch, its mine that cannot find the rhythm. My foot taps on the floor, bells on my fingers but my heart stays out of time. I feel them touching my body and she is eager but my soul turns and hides and yearns. I pluck at the edge of the mattress, I feel their heat, their murmurs and soft laughs vibrating through my nakedness, the long pauses and sighs of kisses and caresses. Soon...they will turn to me and she will join them, delighted in her wantonness. They touch the underside of her breast and suckle her excited nipples, their fingers buried inside her lushness, their mouths, tongues, teeth and I hear her moan from far away. She is pliant and eager, she burns and is unafraid and they catch her fever, smoldering to crescendo. Rumbles of laughter, smoke drifting with the scent of sex behind this closed door. They try to cuddle but she turns from them, in to me and I feel their withdrawal from the chill and I enjoy it. The scorpion poised to strike, to flood them with pain, to hide and sulk. She may give in to them but I am in control. I confuse them. I have to let them know. They may possess her but they will never have her, not all of her, she is only half without me. They have to know, I hate them. When they touch her hair and she may smile but inside she fights me. I want to scowl - I hate their touch, I hate how they touch and feel and I feel nothing. I hate the look of yearning and passion in their eyes. Fake! Its Not Real! A soul that burns with hate, with fear, with jealousy...with pain, is particular. THEY pretend, I will not. I wish she would tell them how it means NOTHING! to me. I want to see the pain in their eyes. I want to see confusion and hate. I want them to understand me by being me. But she is silent and leaves me to pout.