Longing

After the game,

The Succubus is with Chloe,

And being with her, after so long,

Is like

Being suspended in honey, through which powerful tides are moving,

Slowly,

Slowly.

She has entered the dreams of so many women, and yet,

This time,

It is she who is consumed within a dream--

And in the way of dreams, she feels the loss of control, the sensation of being carried deliciously,

Perhaps dangerously,

Along,

Watching herself,

Helpless.

As for Chloe, she is the same Finite Universe she has always been--

Calm,

Untroubled,

At home in the skin of anything she has ever done

Or committed.

Her eyes are now, as ever, the undisturbed center

Around which everything else rushes,

Like the turbulent air around the perfection of a raven's wing.

The Succubus has entered so many dreams,

But now she is the dream,

Aching to enter Chloe

The way midnight rain joins the earth and seems to disappear.

The Succubus knows by now

That she is incapable of waking herself from her desire for Chloe once she is inside it,

And the never knowing

How Chloe feels

Or what Chloe is thinking,

Cannot stop her, any more than shouting at a falling stone would suspend it in mid-air,

Or magically return it to stillness, at the top of things, in the time before it began to fall.

The Succubus knows that Chloe will leave again, that she can't possess her as she does all the others.

Chloe claims that she never even dreams,

But,

That's just a trick of memory--

Because,

Chloe does dream, all the time, but when she dreams

It is the Succubus who remembers.

______

Photograph: Jordana Brewster