The Tale of The Queen of Hearts
Misses Bright Heart
It was a mad night though, a mad night that cut loose the bounds we ever shared.
We were in the same old pub, the one that welcomed us to Mary, the only reason why we spent the night by the edge of her puritan ladies school, in the same damp atmosphere of beer taste with beer budget. You were sitting on the same wooden stool, with your black “Nirvana” shirt thrown over, like you just don’t care, with your leather jacket around your shoulders, pressing onto your arms; I always preferred the cargo one, but damn me if I didn’t desire you with every cell of my drunken being. And Mary? Taking my inches of space on your lap, over you, like you ever belonged to her, like your old guitar didn’t have the name of our starts.
The heat was unbearable, Mary’s curls were wet with her mist of sweat, your eyes were as warm as ever, blazing her clothing with your sight, enveloping your mind with the fantasies below her ever so tight jeans, my jeans, with my lyrics written all over and my studded belt to give her personality, Oh Mary disguised to be me, how could I permit such a prostitution of the image you had of me?
Your mumbled voice was laughing with her little jokes, and light kisses, and I? I stood apart away, deceased already with the image of you two, already in possession of such blind anger to finish her waltz around you.
My whiskey was riding straight to my throat with no icing to hold the heat on my finger tips, the heat on my mouth. I knew I had given up morals when I took up you, I knew I had nothing to loose, yet then I was giving up morals in the form of booze, cheap dirty Jack Daniels. My mind was rambling, dancing, shooting mental bullets of both passion and betrayal to Mary. It was never treason but your tune was becoming hers, she was a thief, a lying dirty virgin nicking your scent from my skin, washing your blood from my hands, and I was no Lady Macbeth, your blood went away.
But then you sang our tune, our bloody tune, and the music we had created, with its erratic rhythm that was due to my lack of beat, with its maniac lyrics, it was mine, it was ours, and yet you encouraged her silly light voice to share it, to share our “Clandestine Harmony”. Our song with her teeth emitting that little click in between verses, in the rapid movements of your strings, our song. That was when my heart started beating faster, faster, faster, that was when my glass became a bottle, and my mind knew no tomorrow but the one below the blue of your eyes.
By the time the tune was over I was standing outside by the lame classic motorcycles, Harley Davidson’s sharing the puke of my whiskey. I kneeled down and began screaming, pulling pieces of my hair our, scratching the edges of my arms, and shouting her name “Mary! Mary! MARY! Bloody Mary!” With all the idiotic images of your once loving grip upon me, with the dumbfuck memory of your writings on the wall “Jimmy kinda loves you” and then my wrist against the wall with your mouth devouring mine, all the bloody memories, all the fucking seconds set in rewind, it was our tune, but I loved her still.
It wasn’t until you pulled me up that I understood the reach of my state. Mary was protecting herself, standing behind you, with my jeans, my fabric, my dreams written all over her legs. I remember your arms trying to ease me down to the earth, but I wasn’t anywhere near the earth anymore, if it was a cloud it was made of ammonia, if it was a hole it was made of arsenic, if it was a sound it was her infectious name. Your arms thick arms wrapping me only freed me from my cage, as I pushed you away, with the little force I could put up to you, with the little resistance I was ever able to manage.
I stumbled aside and made my way to her, to Mary, stepped heavily towards her frightened pale blue eyes, and her soft skin now tense with fear, but also with excitement, the bitch, she was loving every second of it. I grabbed her face, pressing my fingers as hard as I could to her fair skin, grabbing her by the jaw and the cheeks. I wasn’t even saying words, I was just howling, screaming, bleeding in the aorta, suffering a vicious attack through the lasting pumps of my heart, but I’d be damned if she was going to win you down.
I caught her rosy mouth in a fierce kiss, with all intention to wound her, to bruise her lips as I bit them, as I hit her madly, and may a ray kill me now if the little bitch didn’t moan. I was about to pull away and throw her to the ground, but you seized me by the wrists, like that one afternoon against your graffiti, but you were no longer Jimmy, you were James. You were hurting me, marks would be left, but I couldn’t have cared as I launched myself against you, colliding to your chest, and my lips biting, chewing the flesh of your neckline, with my hands flying to the zipper of your pants as you groaned half breathily, full heartedly.
It was when our young hearts started beating faster, if I didn’t have your love again, I’d have your fuck for at least one more night. Oh but Mary, so frail and broken by the blows I’ve had given her. Mary, so bruised and teary and so delicate, like a virgin, like a liar, like a saint aiming to be god darn raped.
It started out with a kiss how did it end up like this? In some random motel room, with stained sheets, and steamy shower, it was only a kiss. How did it end up like this? With limbs tangled and ripped jeans, and torn boxers, with marked skin and kiss swollen lips.
My head was shaking, my body twisting to the mad touch of both your fingers and Mary’s, and the way she screamed in pleasure, and the way I wept through your kisses, through your arms. The way I suffered in such paradise of lust, pressing my ear to your chest and bearing the sound of a heart no longer beating for me. How I pained heaven and hell with my cries and muffled sobs, so deep in passion, so deep in a hole of sheer torture. It was sex with most hatred, pained mind, but also with a most joyful body. I never, never would have planned it out, not for you or anyone I ever loved.
My stomach was sick and puking every time your mouths met, my head banging the wall every time you pulled her shirt up, my eyes closing every time she yelled your name. All because I wanted it all, and I was perishing amongst the sheets and cushions, but I just couldn’t run away, it was killing me, taking control of my very being. Still I opened up my eager eyes, because I was Misses Bright Heart.
We were in the same old pub, the one that welcomed us to Mary, the only reason why we spent the night by the edge of her puritan ladies school, in the same damp atmosphere of beer taste with beer budget. You were sitting on the same wooden stool, with your black “Nirvana” shirt thrown over, like you just don’t care, with your leather jacket around your shoulders, pressing onto your arms; I always preferred the cargo one, but damn me if I didn’t desire you with every cell of my drunken being. And Mary? Taking my inches of space on your lap, over you, like you ever belonged to her, like your old guitar didn’t have the name of our starts.
The heat was unbearable, Mary’s curls were wet with her mist of sweat, your eyes were as warm as ever, blazing her clothing with your sight, enveloping your mind with the fantasies below her ever so tight jeans, my jeans, with my lyrics written all over and my studded belt to give her personality, Oh Mary disguised to be me, how could I permit such a prostitution of the image you had of me?
Your mumbled voice was laughing with her little jokes, and light kisses, and I? I stood apart away, deceased already with the image of you two, already in possession of such blind anger to finish her waltz around you.
My whiskey was riding straight to my throat with no icing to hold the heat on my finger tips, the heat on my mouth. I knew I had given up morals when I took up you, I knew I had nothing to loose, yet then I was giving up morals in the form of booze, cheap dirty Jack Daniels. My mind was rambling, dancing, shooting mental bullets of both passion and betrayal to Mary. It was never treason but your tune was becoming hers, she was a thief, a lying dirty virgin nicking your scent from my skin, washing your blood from my hands, and I was no Lady Macbeth, your blood went away.
But then you sang our tune, our bloody tune, and the music we had created, with its erratic rhythm that was due to my lack of beat, with its maniac lyrics, it was mine, it was ours, and yet you encouraged her silly light voice to share it, to share our “Clandestine Harmony”. Our song with her teeth emitting that little click in between verses, in the rapid movements of your strings, our song. That was when my heart started beating faster, faster, faster, that was when my glass became a bottle, and my mind knew no tomorrow but the one below the blue of your eyes.
By the time the tune was over I was standing outside by the lame classic motorcycles, Harley Davidson’s sharing the puke of my whiskey. I kneeled down and began screaming, pulling pieces of my hair our, scratching the edges of my arms, and shouting her name “Mary! Mary! MARY! Bloody Mary!” With all the idiotic images of your once loving grip upon me, with the dumbfuck memory of your writings on the wall “Jimmy kinda loves you” and then my wrist against the wall with your mouth devouring mine, all the bloody memories, all the fucking seconds set in rewind, it was our tune, but I loved her still.
It wasn’t until you pulled me up that I understood the reach of my state. Mary was protecting herself, standing behind you, with my jeans, my fabric, my dreams written all over her legs. I remember your arms trying to ease me down to the earth, but I wasn’t anywhere near the earth anymore, if it was a cloud it was made of ammonia, if it was a hole it was made of arsenic, if it was a sound it was her infectious name. Your arms thick arms wrapping me only freed me from my cage, as I pushed you away, with the little force I could put up to you, with the little resistance I was ever able to manage.
I stumbled aside and made my way to her, to Mary, stepped heavily towards her frightened pale blue eyes, and her soft skin now tense with fear, but also with excitement, the bitch, she was loving every second of it. I grabbed her face, pressing my fingers as hard as I could to her fair skin, grabbing her by the jaw and the cheeks. I wasn’t even saying words, I was just howling, screaming, bleeding in the aorta, suffering a vicious attack through the lasting pumps of my heart, but I’d be damned if she was going to win you down.
I caught her rosy mouth in a fierce kiss, with all intention to wound her, to bruise her lips as I bit them, as I hit her madly, and may a ray kill me now if the little bitch didn’t moan. I was about to pull away and throw her to the ground, but you seized me by the wrists, like that one afternoon against your graffiti, but you were no longer Jimmy, you were James. You were hurting me, marks would be left, but I couldn’t have cared as I launched myself against you, colliding to your chest, and my lips biting, chewing the flesh of your neckline, with my hands flying to the zipper of your pants as you groaned half breathily, full heartedly.
It was when our young hearts started beating faster, if I didn’t have your love again, I’d have your fuck for at least one more night. Oh but Mary, so frail and broken by the blows I’ve had given her. Mary, so bruised and teary and so delicate, like a virgin, like a liar, like a saint aiming to be god darn raped.
It started out with a kiss how did it end up like this? In some random motel room, with stained sheets, and steamy shower, it was only a kiss. How did it end up like this? With limbs tangled and ripped jeans, and torn boxers, with marked skin and kiss swollen lips.
My head was shaking, my body twisting to the mad touch of both your fingers and Mary’s, and the way she screamed in pleasure, and the way I wept through your kisses, through your arms. The way I suffered in such paradise of lust, pressing my ear to your chest and bearing the sound of a heart no longer beating for me. How I pained heaven and hell with my cries and muffled sobs, so deep in passion, so deep in a hole of sheer torture. It was sex with most hatred, pained mind, but also with a most joyful body. I never, never would have planned it out, not for you or anyone I ever loved.
My stomach was sick and puking every time your mouths met, my head banging the wall every time you pulled her shirt up, my eyes closing every time she yelled your name. All because I wanted it all, and I was perishing amongst the sheets and cushions, but I just couldn’t run away, it was killing me, taking control of my very being. Still I opened up my eager eyes, because I was Misses Bright Heart.
♠ ♠ ♠
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