Under Your Skin, Can You Feel It?
Her nails graze the space between her and oblivion, and she is truly lonely in spite of the life she's carrying. Two strange figures swimming inside her body, growing sickeningly by the day, making her grow until she is anything but unnoticeable, which sometimes is all she wants to be. There's a scandal outside of these four walls, about this and her and him and the things that would be intimate had they not been who they ultimately are. She wants peace, calm, breath. She wants to breathe.
The space, the air around her, becomes an all-too-real object, permeating her hair and mouth and into her lungs, where she used to feel love that has dimmed into numbness. Love for him, maybe, numbness for him; numbness and things that crawl underneath her skin, and colors that glow underneath her eyelids.
She used to strip for him, when they had a home, and he would be so turned on, would be so everywhere, he would make her feel adored, when things were well. He used to want and she used to give, all night long, baby, they used to make sense together until they didn't anymore and it hurt too much or it was too exhausting after a long day of serving at the pleasure. And maybe the Bartlet administration got all the pleasure she was denied.
This body does things it has never done before, and there's only air here to explore her new curves, only sunlight to reveal her new shadows and blemishes. Only her to notice that she still thinks of herself in the context of being loved, or still thinks of the past as an equivalent to her present, and the walls of the room are so white that it kills her from within, slowly. She leans against hardness, naked flesh against the wall, and there is nothing pure about her and nothing erotic about her. There is not a breeze about her, only air, and people inside her that still cannot breathe it.
The space seems to be so intrusive nowadays.
They call this together alone or alone together, she can't decide: if she's herself times three and him times two, then why is she alone in the room?
She wanted this.