The Lonely Prelude

His olive tan skin glistened in the moonlit night, too buried in their passion to close the curtains - no, too buried in his passion - his mud brown eyes half closed as he slowly awaited exhaustion, she stared, observed, hoping to see a hint of the man she once loved, although they looked the same, their mannerisms were different, he was no longer the same man. His breath having slowed and rhythmic, his eyes closed and his lean body still, she figured he was asleep. He was vulnerable, he was weakened but what would she do, what could she do. She slept, the cold sheets warming as they made contact with her ***** body. She too closed her eyes, awaiting the haunting nightmates hidden deep within her subconscious.

*A woman like me will only gain freedom once I die.

It won't be long now*.

Her heart pounded within her ear, the sweet suckle voice of her mother resonating through her head, sending her mind haywire, connecting the memory with many more similar, where her mother claimed her death before the knife reached her caramel aging skin.

A sigh of relief found it's way out of her lips, raising her hand to brush the messy brown curls - which reminded her very much of her mother - away from her face. She looked around, noticing the loss of another presence which led to another sigh escaping her ruby-pink lips. She stepped off the bed, the covers cascading down her ***** form. Walking towards the bathroom, she indulged herself in a warm shower, the water dripping down her curvy figure, pitter-pattering amidst her small back, wettening her hair, causing it to stick to her skin. How this reminded her of her teen years, of the days spent in bathrooms hiding het tears within the soapy water. She had promised herself once she left the toxicity of her childhood home, this wouldn't happen again, but here she is ( the promise made, now broken) in the dreaded shower, holding in her screams of anguish and desperation.

She stepped out of the bathroom, a navy blue towel wrapping around her body, her brown hair wrapped in a towel to absorb the moisture. She wore a light blue, knee length skirt she had bought not to long ago and a black long sleeved elastaine shirt, a baby blue blazer and white pumps. This is what her mother would call a career woman outfit, a smile playing at her lips at how proud her mother would be but then reality hit, they're was nothing she would be proud of, her mother wasn't proud of the life she lived, nor the one promised to her children, whether they end up in poverty or as one of the rich, she wouldn't be proud, to her, it was either too little or not enough. Her mind dismissed all negative thoughts about her mother, the naivety of a teenage girl seeking her mother's validation seeping through with every second, refusing to see her as more or less of the God fearing woman she remembered... Or fabricated.

Exciting the house, she entered the sleek white BMW and drove off. To the place which she felt her soul at rest, where her mind was at ease and her thoughts no longer haunted her and her marriage no more a reminder of her failure.

She went to the grave yard.

Her mother's tomb, the one person who brought her peace , whether dead or alive. If not the eery grave, then the bottom of a bottle and her mother surely wouldnt be proud of an alcoholic. She arrived at the graveyard, it's silence and eery nature welcoming to her, it was almost jilting how she felt so at home with the dead, maybe, perhaps because the dead didn't judge, they had no expectations from her, the dead brought her freedom, free from societies hypocricies, her siblings insistence and her husband's presence.

She stared at the grey, moss covered tombstone, laying on her back beside it. The orbitruary carved onto it, the lies it spoke calmed her, to reassure herself into thinking she was just an unfilial child, imaging the cruel things her mother had done to her but no matter how many times she fueled those delusions , the truth always remained and no lie could make her mother seem like a better person.

' Is there a reason your lying on your back in a graveyard ' the supple voice asked, like a dew drop in a silent lake during a chilly night, the voice was chilling. She opened her eyes, checking to make sure the voice she heard belonged to the woman who she had imagined, It had, her usually wheat colored hair a honey strawberry blonde, she wanted to ruin her hands through like she had done before.

' Why are you here? 'she asked, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

' Can I not come see my friend, check on her wellbeing. ' she replied coyly, feigning that innocence that had fooled her years ago.

'You can... ' she paused, looking her in the eye, showing her how much she's changed since then. '.. But you wouldn't '

The woman laughed, throwing her head back. ' Because you know me? ' she shook her head, lessening her deep throated laugh to a chuckle.

' I know enough' she replied, her face ridden of any emotional give away other than the slight twitch in her eyes as she figdeted with the grass below. The women nodded her head bobbing up and down as she started at the woman on the ground. A loud sigh escaped her lips as plopped down beside her.

' You didn't answer my question ' she asked.

' I did, you just weren't satisfied with the answer ' the blonde replied.

' The answer was a lie '

' As opposed to everything else I've said ' she questioned. ' Asante... ' she began, although cut short by the loud sigh of her former " friend "

' Leah, I'm tired. Can I have one second of peace. ' she asked, although the two women knew it was not a request.

' Peaace, hah! ' she scoffed. ' There's nothing peaceful about you, you and me, we're chaotic, there's no peace for us, we only have each other. ' she said. The same thing she had said for the past years and she couldn't help but agree, her father had not wanted her, her mother always looking to change her, her siblings always filled with disdain for her and each other and her husband was no longer her husband. So, perhaps she was right,

They only had each other.

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