25-Dec-2000
Happy Holidays listsibs.
Title: Internal Bleeding
Author: Traed
Warnings: None really...
Archive: GW addiction
Pairing: 1+2 implied extremely vaguely
Rating: G
Note: Okay wow, I drop off the face of the planet for about seven months but now I'm back...be afraid.
RL just wasn't kind to me this year... hopefully the new year will have some pity on my poor soul and cut a girl some slack. I'll be posting more Deliberate Caution as soon as I get some things cleared up and also more of my little side project The Den (if anyone remembers it).
Thank you to everyone that supported me and sent feedback on my other fics...hopefully my upcoming contributions don't disappoint. Thanks again. T.
"Internal bleeding is classified as either visible, in that the results of the bleeding can be seen, or concealed, where no direct evidence of bleeding is obvious"
"Internal bleeding is always to be considered as a very serious matter, and urgent medical aid is necessary"
His lips are curved at a fascinating angle... a perfect half-moon. Upside down frown. Somewhere someone would call it a smile. The irony is not lost on me. Upside down frown. I have been studying him and I am intrigued by his mouth, it had so many talents beyond it's original intent. The teeth chew, the tongue licks and tastes, the lips...the lips are a mystery, they kiss, they pout, they smile, always in some contact with the tongue, yet the lips have no definite purpose, the teeth chew, the tongue licks, and the lips...the lips kiss. His smile is a kiss, a perfect expression of bliss meant to convey well being. A perfect half moon.
I am imperfect. My lips are not as his, I have failed with the calculations for the angle, my lips do not curve right only one side can go up and then not at all perfect. there is no moon.
There is an urgency to my need to smile. I am imperfect. Unacceptable. My bones are brittle with tension, I feel that I will shatter. Fragile glass. This glass that mocks me in silent humiliation, reflecting as it does my imperfection. Mirrors are the perfect humility, a reversal of all fortune, never quite perfect. Always some flaw.
There is a reoccuring pain in me I have tried to overlook, but each I see his smile my chest tightens and there is a liquid warmth unfamiliar in my blood. I worry on some level that I am dying from the inside. That my cells are disintergrating and my organs are betraying me in their function. I do not so much worry about death as I worry about staying dead. Remaining unmoving and unable to learn and comprehend, unable to move forward in my purpose of living, not breathing, learning how to smile. I do not worry about dying, I worry about being dead.
The End
(:./traed/internal)
