Afterwards

She knew she would regret it. But like a vampire on the prowl the deep dark ruby was just too tempting to resist. And when she looked up to see those adoring eyes, there was just no way tonight was going to end with a handshake. But in those trappings of the moment she hears the whispers telling her over and over.

Close to me.

And before she knew it the tears started to fall. She didn't even mind that the whole world has paused and was watching. She'd give them something to remember. She'd bare her soul and then maybe her sins would be purged. After all there are no absolutes. She cannot be damned.

And then she was back. In her controlled environment. The silent buzz awakens her from a deep dark memory she never wants to repeat. A smile. The face across the table grabs her hand for reassurance and she musters every tenderness. Another con, but surprisingly she envies the naivety attached to it. She is getting too sentimental. She chides herself and ponders briefly whether age has mellowed her somewhat. She closed her eyes.

Close to me.

She wanted to beg her to stay. To tell her that she cannot live without her. She contemplated selling her soul to the Devil himself. But whilst her faith was wavering a single thread of pride held her tongue in check. Just long enough to watch her walk out the door. She doesn't remember anything else even the hand through the glass felt almost unreal. She dropped to her knees in disbelief.

Suddenly there was an audience. She rose and went through the customary kiss on the cheek. First one on the left and the right just in case. She rests her hand lazily on his knee and calculated the exact moment when she had to absentmindedly graze it. She knew that she had to lean in against those broad shoulder for that picture perfect moment. She could see it their faces but felt no joy at making their dreams come true. She drank a big gulp and for a brief moment lost her composure which coincided with a punchline. She laughed graciously and it's hollowness was filled by the mindless conversations. She didn't blame them. They just didn't know any better.

Close to me.

Ghosts of her keeps her awake at night and the sudden skipping of the heart makes her wonder. It's been too long and grieve has given way to numbness. She traces the contours of her face and it is another's hand which glides so smoothly. She made a silent promise and added another brick to her near complete wall. She tells herself that her song was over and the dance has to stop. But sometimes in the dead of the night, she finds herself floating. Giggling like a love struck teenager, their kisses short bursts of passion. Entangling love and lust to peak in indescribable ecstasy. She conceded that maybe she shouldn't have run those jagged edges. But she felt nothing and those ruby droplets were too beautiful to let it stop. How was she to know that this love was not exclusively her pain?

The night was getting late. She made her excuses and good-naturedly dealt with their jibes. She was so tired. She needed to get home. To soak herself in a warm bath. Besides she is too tired of the game, she has won so many times that it is no longer worth the fight. Finally, in her own company, she shed all her layers and soaked in the heat of the water. Leaned her head and drank one final glass of red wine. She's had enough. She opened the brown bag she picked up from the pharmacy on her way home. How was she to know that this love could be salvaged?

Close to me. Always.

And just before everything fades out she mutters almost annoyedly "always too little too late, always".