2/13/12

Your Mark
By David Xu


My eyelids fluttered open.

I’ve been marked by you, to be your man and yours only. In a primitive way that drives me crazy — the thought of which brings back those butterflies to my chest.

A hickey. Hickeys. Such a peculiar name for something that can be surprisingly satisfying. I awoke today feeling the dull ache emanating from the ligaments on the left side of my neck, with the soft shape your name on my lips.

You know that I miss you. For me, your love bite brings merciful comfort, in the form of physical sensation, in the indescribable language of trust, fidelity, security, and passion.

I bring my hand to the dark splotch, and immediately I am taken back to our time alone together. Already I feel your warmth near me; it is educed from my own internal flame, becoming more distinct from my own warmth, until I am craning my neck for more in midst of vivid recall of the sensation of your lips pressing on my neck.

More images stream forth, and I can trace your features in the warmth flowing through my entire body. But for only a fleeting moment, can I feel your fingers in between the fingers of my other hand, and the heated touch of your hand pressing mine harder to your mark.

I have to remove my hand to allow my eyes to open.


- - -
David is senior at a New York City magnet school. He considers himself to be overly sentimental at times, and relishes the challenge of opening his inner mind with the limited physical vocabulary, spoken and unspoken, that we share as humans. A long-distance romance has begun to free his mind . . .