Journal
I'm half Jill
I had another dream with you in it. It’s been a while.
We were… somewhere… and we were talking. You pulled off your shirt so I could see your pale, scrawny ribs and you arched your back. You wanted to show me your new tattoo, you said- a huge piece, that stretched across your ribs and your side. It was black and white and beautifully done: two women, conjoined twins, writhing there on your damp white skin. I peered so closely that I could see individual marks of the needle: tiny black dots, hundreds of thousands of them.
Later I had to leave- it was time to say goodbye. Here, you said, leaning your face in. Give me a kiss. You were so close and I could feel your breath faintly and you turned your head so that I could see your profile and the kiss landed on your cheek: chaste, on the very corner of your mouth, rough stubble under my lips. My blood was thick and my heart was racing and something gasped and quivered in the space between us. To this day I’ve never kissed you. Even in my dreams it can’t happen.