I Called You Spider Heart

You can't seem to help but tease me not realizing what I went through as a child and just how much I hate to be teased. You laugh and fall into my arms kissing me as hard as you can. Middle of the night adventures and sly looks from the doorman. I've got swagger and a pair of stilettos in my bag. I can wiggle my butt with the best of them. Late night call girls and junkie eyes saw me pass with a big smile on my face as I rushed down the stairs and straight into a waiting taxi. Your voice on the other side of the city distant in the dark, crouching, waiting to swallow me.

I checked that my tits looked perfect in the elevator mirror. I wore my tightest pants. All hips, and ass and scented desire. Quiet knocks, silly jokes, giggling and louder obnoxious hotel sex for hallway ears to hear. I feel like a goddess in your careful worship. Perfect for a little while. Wanted. Needed. Undone. I am undone. Four AM phone calls still buzzing in my ear, I watch the dawn close in on us, skin naked and slick against the unwanted light. A few hours of precious 'just letting it go.' All spent. Every condom in the room used. Every breathe in my body exhausted. A war zone of pillows and sheets spread about the bed. I lay against you and listen to the fear rush back into your heart. Soon enough I'm dreaming as you toss and turn next to me.

I called you Little Spider Heart, skittering away as fast as can be. Finding some dusty corner to hide in. Jumping out to frighten me in the middle of the night.  I can see your misery. They once called me the Ice Maiden, too numb to have felt any of this. They don't call me anything now. He said 'there's nothing wrong with you girl. There's lots right.' But most days I don't feel that. Most days... yes, most days... I don't feel.

I know you need a destroyer trying to take you down with her. Little Kali and her little needles. Sweetest little strawberry blonde candy, all wrapped up in broken hurt and dangerous situations. It's a wicked thing to do. This little heart. This little candy heart. Spiders lick candy clean in glistening webs just over my head. I go quietly into the wet morning, trains rumbling in my bones, knowing I won't see you again. At least not this time. There's always next time. Next time. Next time, little spider heart all the way to the sea where it's never me. Never me. Never, ever me.