Take Me With You

The Rose

Photo by Parrish Freeman on Unsplash

Amor, how I’ve longed for you to see me, tangled in the living green ropes stretched above you. I wanted to come to you, but I don’t have the strength to break free of these wrought iron bars.

I’d almost given up hope, resigning myself to a cold life lived in shadow without the warmth of your smile. But at last, you’ve sauntered close, a merry twinkle in your hazelnut eyes. I shudder in glorious anticipation, awaiting your tender touch. At long last, I can stop wondering why you’ve stayed away for so long and think of other - more pleasant - things.

Like the day we met. You were sunbathing in a pink bikini. I remember how you glistened in the afternoon sunlight, the glimmering beads of sweat sliding down the sloping valleys of your backside like morning dew drops on cool summer mornings. Your dark hair seemed spun from silken threads of la mora negra. Your skin was smooth, rich, and supple, like warm cocoa butter.

Falling in love was as easy as breathing. You said pink was your favorite color, so I picked pink flowers for your hair. I opened myself up to you, as I have again so often in these past few months. Back then, though, you never ignored me. I never felt the sting of your cold shoulder, never wondered whether you still loved me, never questioned whether our love would last until even the angels of heaven turned to dust in the wind.

Then came the day we were forced to separate. We knew of the toll that war had taken on our country, but somehow thought its ever-lengthening claws would never reach our secluded city. How foolish we were, but that’s the folly of youth, isn’t it? We think we’re indestructible, and time is trivial, until life jerks us up by the hair and beats us bloody. Even so, we were scared, you more than me, I think, but I promised I’d come back to you, and you promised you’d wait for me.

I kept my promise, mi vida. Do you see, now? It isn’t the wind that causes my trembling, but your scrutiny as you bend closer to peer at me, your full lips pursed in astonished admiration.

There were nights I shivered in darkness, days when I thought the sun would leave me a smoking ruin in the sand. I saw friends cry for their mothers and held men as they wept for lost limbs and lives. I assured many of my brothers they would be fine, even as their blood gushed from wounds not even God could heal. I often dreamed of the rapid bursts of machine gun bullets, the terrible blasts, and the grinding squeal of roaming tanks. Most of all, I dreamed of the screams of fallen men, some friends, and some the enemy.

But sometimes I dreamt of you, too.

I’d see you walking among the villas at the base of our mountain home, your form glowing as the sun kissed the snowy peaks. I dreamt of your laugh and the way your breath quickened in my ear when I entered your body for the first time. I dreamt of your scent, lilac and honey, and how marvelous your lips tasted when pressed against my own.

Will you kiss me again, amor? I have done my best to leave behind my scars and become beautiful for you.

I don’t remember being sent home, but I do remember thinking I’d never see you again. It was dark, and the moon was new. I heard a sound from just outside the wire perimeter and went to investigate. They warned us not to wander, but I guess I wasn’t thinking. They say landmines click when you step on them, but mine didn’t. I scanned the area with my flashlight and saw a desert rose growing from the sand, rare and beautiful. I approached it, and next I knew, I was lying facedown in the sand. There was some faint sense of pain, but it was vague and far away.

I wished, since I was going to die, that I could be with you one last time. When I awoke, I was here, trapped in these green tangles, tied to this gray iron prison.

Now you’re reaching for me, and it all seems worth it. Your touch is gentle; your caress brings me bliss. I’m stretching for you, but I can’t break free of this prison. You lean in, though, and take in my scent. Your soft smile liberates my spirit. There’s a flash of white pain - a sense of tearing loose from another distant part of myself, from the living rope that bound me, but it’s gone before I can take note of it, and I am finally free in body as well.

The world is beginning to darken, but I’m at peace with it. You bring me close once more. I feel the softness of your lips and a tickle from your nose. Then the world swims as I am slipped into the silk-like folds of your raven hair. You always did love pink.