The Gold Mirror

one night last week i was in a really dark place, feeling guilty and self-hateful. it was getting late. I really needed to unwind. so much pent up feeling, rage, remorse, sadness, feeling entitled and right. i smoked a little and slipped into bed. the urge to relax and unravel flushed through me and the sensation that i could ease out of my pain and into an erotic loving space and I overcame the feeling of guilt (you don’t deserve to feel good) and dived in. one plunge, into my heat, all pain washed away, or it was there witnessing me, helpless to stop my self-foriveness with its expression of me making love to me. the phantasy of showing one particular friend – who i was also feeling guilt about, from some anger earlier – and she showed up as my witness (dressed and authoritative), reflecting self-forgiveness back to me, with the feeling of humility for it being her, who I hurt and who I needed to humble myself in front of. I was close to letting go and wanted a mirror…to see and taste. I did not want to get out of bed. the gold mirror you held to my face was on the shelf next to my bed. i picked it up and looked into the glass, I saw myself reflected in the background of two generous spurts of dried semen, yellow and from two different occasions months ago, onto which I plunged my tongue. I cannot touch that mirror without seeing your face holding it to me, and I melted into the beauty of that, how I wanted to penetrate you and you didn’t want to go there, so you turned the mirror to my face…intentionally deflecting my desire back onto me, knowing I would orgasm that way and it would take the pressure off of you. accepting that you choose someone else. accepting your power of choice. accepting the beauty of your no, so gentle, with permission to let go, even to your beauty, always to myself. i moaned into my own eyes. in the morning i woke up and looked at the mirror and the two ejaculations were gone, I had licked them both back thoroughly leaving polished glass in their place.

to Kimberly

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