Nouveau

Chapter 47: Linked

Laive

The Act

She came to you, in a room full of bitches...
In heat.
Something propelled you to entertain her
Your ego so big, it didn't allow your brain to speak

The salt and ethanol on your tongue weren't enough to keep you conscious.
Your loins suffocated you,
Took your tongue for ransom,
Stripped your breathing from your throat.

YOU. STOPPED. THINKING.

You chose lust over love.
Temporary.
Present.
Lust over love.
Temporary over forever.
Present over future.

You don't speak as she echoes underneath you.
You are motion in a room full of darkness.
YOU. EXIST.
No kissing. No affection.
Just present aggression fulfilling a want that you've coaxed over as a need.
You release the next generation in coverage.
Flushed your sins away.

IT. IS. DONE.

Your eye sight returns,
you exhale,
your heart rate slows.
And YOU. WAKE. UP.

Her skin, her tone,
Her hair, her body,
does not belong to you.
She is not your home.

Betrayal meets you as you scatter away from the bed.
Home.
Your home...
Your home has been patiently waiting for you.
Now you remember.

The guilt beat your ass before I could touch you.
Gashed your head, thought after thought.
Wounded, you cry out.
Agony aching and driving you mad.

Your scars wreak of her scent.
Your hands are smothered with my memories.
Now you remember. You remember me.

You remember that I'm not worth losing.
Now you remember.
You remember my worth.
It is too late.

And I was home waiting.
Waiting for my home to come home.
Waiting for you...
Waiting for you to return to me.

Why does your betrayal, lead to your loyalty?
Why does your unfaithfulness lead to your commitment?
I. WANT. IN.

I want to intentionally make a mistake
Accidentally fall into someone else's arms.
I want to be forgiven, only for you not to forget.
May I betray you?
May your shoulder carry that chip?

Allow my body to be captured by the ones who lust after me...
All for skewed self-esteem.

May I serve as a reservoir for many captains to fleet their ships?
May I too allow personified lust to take me to a level of consummation, that I too remember.
That I too am able to recall that you are my home.

That I belong to you, and that I. CHOSE. YOU   

"So I want the treatment on stage to be a contemporary or modern lyrical piece to this poem I wrote. It feels like...love, hurt...revenge. But it also sounds sultry, wounded, and somehow you can perceive the strength in it."

Laive was at Millennium dance studio taking a private heels intensive with Aisha Francis, Yanis Marshall, and Danielle Polanco. They were choreographing pieces to her upcoming tour and performances, as well as perfecting her dance technique in heels. 

"I'm envisioning the stage being completely dark...and as soon as the first stanza starts to play the spot light aims towards two dancers on opposite sides of the stage. I want technique, I want backlit silhouettes, and I want her in heels. I want the rest of the dancers bare feet in flowy lyrical costumes"

"I thought you were going to be doing this for a minute," Aisha smiled at her.

Danielle agreed, "Me too!"