Hello, dear.
Hi, hi. What brings you to my ears?
Oh, you terrible thing. Don't I get to hear my lover?
Without a motive you call ulterior?
[Laugh.] Sorry, sorry. I suppose it's just...we haven't been in each other's sight
Or mind, since that last blue moon.
Oh yes, and how lovely it was. I want to see you again, my sweetest plum. Desperately so.
[I drum the table. Red lights and brown walls and the sound of your heart in my hands.]
How badly? What are you willing to do?
Everything, anything, sugar. You ask and I shall deliver. Give me your heart and I will sew it to mine.
Ha, ha. I meant-
I will, you know. Your ears to my lips. My voice should be the only thing on your sweet mind. My hands on your wrists, taking off his ring. You don't hunger for him the way you do me, my vein.
Quit joking, sweets. Who's that 'he' you're talking about?
I have written hymns, you know. My attic ceiling was filthy with them, all with your sticky name. The sound of it in my mouth is enough to send me reeling. To have the taste of ambrosia that kills mortals. The warmth is a sin but my god am I willing to risk a deeply blue and sulphuric ending to my life when it means your eyes on me. All for you, love. You should know, truly, that I have so many acts tucked away in your name.
Are you .... Are you quite alright?
I wish every night when god is most sadistic, that my footsteps would for eternity
Sink in your shadows, your filthy thoughts and sweetest words, pooling in my pores. That I would wake sipping your tears, that I would have every bit of your skin that's rotten, turned to sickening dust. What a waste of your heavenly body. Ah, the most tempting, taunting thought struck - What would I give to tear the skin of your lips, millimetre by millimetre until red is all that my eyes know.
I'm scared. Please. If this is a joke, it's over. Stop it. Please.
[The telephone cord at my feet. The brown walls bare, wires snaking their way out. The receiver was still by my ear, my blood turned to stone.]
You know what the ancient Egyptians did to their pharaohs? They mummified them. But before that - they scrubbed their bodies, with the most intoxicating oils - and then they would do everything in their power so that the pharaohs had everything they'd need in the afterlife. They were divinity after all, and so deserved the best of the best, the goldest blood, if you will. So. I have everything we'll need, dearest dove of my dreams. Me.
The door opens. Not the front, not the back, the porch. The basement.
Quick footsteps, quick breaths.
Your calloused fingers around my wrists.
A dream come true, my most utter wine.
(a/n: telephone calls are so fun to write!)
