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it’s sweet like cocoa. like a hexagonal shaped honeycomb morphed into circles of a chocolate cup – hot and swelling – cocoa brown eyes.
for now, they’re wandering beyond the charcoal-colored felines of jennie kim’s – intense. restful. otherworldly.
she’s dragging her away from the glass walls and comfort of the sunsets beneath each other’s golden nude skins. away from the security of the lace sheets and farther away from the beach house overlooking nonexistent pavements and skyscrapers – gray skies.
lisa lets herself get dragged with a faint smile on her lips, wandering her doe eyes at the invisible sight of her lover’s drying essence and rose scent, ignoring the knowledge of their destination. jennie leads the way with a morphed facial expression, delivering what is going on inside her mind with untamed juvenile thoughts lingering from unknown.
she threads her fingers around lisa’s like she does when she needs the feel of soft curls of her hair in an attempt to soothe each other, and regardless.
so she does it, laid, regardless and for lisa’s benefit, who coos at her favorite act, nose nuzzling in jennie’s slim neck who fakes a giggle as her other hand busies itself with a plucked flower. it falls down with the others, although intact in the soil, once realizing her crime of taking nature’s offer only to be plucked, wilted away, and rotted on for bees to discard as well. jennie shivers and automatically shields herself into the arms of her lover – lisa, who gladly obliged at the unspoken request.
jennie grasps her free right hand on the ground of grasses and flowers – daffodils swaying against the wind within their limit, ignoring the ticklish effort calling to be admired only to be ignored with her face in between lisa’s caving neck. jennie picks up the plucked daffodil and taps on lisa’s shoulder who then releases her from the embrace, displaying the concern she’ll always dedicate to lisa right in front of her face.
lisa automatically grins with a light giggle coating her callow lips, taking the gift in between her slender index finger and thumb, hands spreading to cup jennie’s strawberry cheeks, instinctively clipping her bangs behind her reddening ear whilst the winds roar to the meadows‘ silent treatment. she clasps a hand back onto jennie’s face like it’s meant to be, it is meant to be , before clashing her plump lips into her own, spreading the message of fealty and security. jennie whimpers before allowing herself to revel in lisa’s intensity, whimpering to feel her more than their clothings restricts them to.
jennie keeps her closer just to feel her there – here, in her mending heart – mended – to be mended – mending – bursting – until it’s time to part in the beach house made of glass walls and safe sheets – of love, of devotion, of fear.
fear comes to fruition when lisa injects the information of getting affected with her colleagues' thoughts of distinction: her race, her preference, her. of their dwindling communication – “i love you” of short-filled sacred nights, of quivering silence and jennie’s isolation from lisa’s dispatches, “i’m fine” in an attempt to scare her demons committed by the love she is getting to know.
it’s idle, to be held like this, to be wanted like this, to swear fealty for this
easy-to-spat-on secrecy built in a temporary – lied-on sanctuary, nothing but an illicit love plucked from the fit soil when it wasn’t supposed to be, meant to be , should have just remained in the depth no one should – to jennie’s credit, intrude in.
however long, it’s wilting away like jennie had assumed, predicted, soullessly wished – just as lisa had. it wouldn’t be attached with a hundred love odes along tender stares and mouthed “you have me”’s as jennie had, already once, shared the same sentiment with someone beloved – someone more – even as lisa tries to transcend it with her grace – she can never compare – can never surpass – only once, only slight.
down-and-out jennie waltzes her fingers on the year old instrument made of tiles and strings of black and white, offering flawed melodies into the transparent room, shadowing the tranquil blue-green waves against the fiery gold rays. carnality is the least of jennie’s concern – now long forgotten, when lisa bolts in the room bawling – destroying her proximity of a serene moment, boiling hidden irritations from jennie. thus she spits words she shouldn’t mean – “i guess i do.” but does, and leaves lisa in her messy conundrums. jennie struts with tearful red cheeks and a promise to never divulge herself to someone like her.
except jennie is pleading for her demons to leave her as she screams her tears away – pleads one more time – and another – until she’s aching to be numb and screams one last time – until her bawls of one person turns into two – and she stays quiet. jennie wishes to fulfill her stomach instead of her interception of what-could-have-been and keeps her mouth shut.
in vain, jennie wonders her accordant attempts burning down to fickles, about how dally he was to flee in and out of her head, about how easy it was to pain lisa’s effort to be her end.
jennie’s vulnerability is weak – that’s why she masks – that’s why she lets it eat her until she’s left with nothing but the stem of memories that lead her to lisa and lisa needing more than just bodies pressed against each other to dwindle what she wanted gone; to ignite a flame that shouldn’t have been brought to life – that should have been for another’s – meant to be – should be – could be – would he?
jennie realizes, present long forgotten, spiraling into the past scents and scenes and what-could-have-been’s with unhinged perception – of dalliances and frustrations – of lisa’s loyalty and sparkling cocoa brown eyes neglected – to doe-eyes black with guilt and pity and so much more jennie is and isn’t prepared for – of straight black hair and tan skin smelling of sunny flowers – hidden caresses with obvious affections and naive letters to fulfill broken promises of a love greater than of jennie and taehyung’s past passions – how foreboding in the dark it was the treachery of a striving love affair.
how would lisa feel if she knew what foregoes inside the little head of jennie’s – rebellious – mean – restless – unable to sting away from the haunting past of the only boy in her polaroid?
that jennie will always try to sing odes of her concern, until the tips of her fingers are made of calluses and attempts to suppress the easiness of making her cry?
how much jennie ached to feel as intense as she have felt for taehyung – giddy yet drafty echoes of happiness, naturally squinted eyes full of promises and innocence, of larger hands
– how shallow she has felt for lisa no matter how hurt she tries to just her sentiments, to feel her in the trenches. only for her to resurface out of it, breathing fine with her and not allowing herself to – terrified at the foreign insight of what love should be. of how different lisa’s love is from taehyung’s. of another love she bled to death to relieve its incantations. so taehyung would be glad. rested. fulfilled. alone with hers in hellholes he drags her with.
cheeks dryly clean, empty are jennie’s feline black eyes – from another love’s. to another’s. should be for another’s. as she revels in the reality that lisa will always be too much for her, as jennie will never be ready for her.