Silverfish

Candlehead and Nightdreaming

You're getting closer to me, I can feel your hot breath on my shoulders. It is like a warm hand reaching out, a slow–but desperate–hour.

I miss the greenhouse. The one that flourished in the summertime, English ivy consuming every inch of glass until there is no sun left to seep in and feed the hungry families. They all, deprived of sunlight by that greedy bunch, died abruptly. So just those ghastly, beautiful vines remain, untouched by some sort of non-plant being for quite some time.

In the mornings I would walk along a narrow, stony pathway that eventually intersected with the greenhouse. You were always early, waiting there for me; a terrible insomnia plaguing your sleep. You would be sitting on the ground, reading a book or perhaps a journal from some foreign inclination, usually ignoring my presence until I broke you away from yourself to say hello.

I would say, "Hi June."

And following, you would reply, "Morning Clara–don't call me June."

Your supposed "real name" was Junipher, an odd concoction of Juno and Christopher (your mother had a very trying pregnancy). But regardless of official names, you preferred to go by your middle name: Cal.

However, I didn't like Cal–it is so, uninspired.

"Well then don't call me Clara," is how I would always frame my rebuttal.

You then would brush me off, snapping the material shut in your book bag before entering the greenhouse without another word.

I was the only one who was actually granted the rewarding right to call you June without an ardent fight, something I'd never really considered until just now.

Because now you're laying beside me, June, and you're inching closer and closer to me, carefully placing your hands on either side of my waist. You're pulling me into you, and I'm not sure if I want it.

I mean, of course I do, because I love you. And I guess you love me too, but I can't disregard those auspicious times of wondering and waiting.

I like that game, it reminds me of a wonderful naivety I used to carry so effortlessly. Like before the ivy consumes, before the others were dead.