My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

Whatever.

Once she leaves my room, thinking she has convinced me enough, I turn myself to the wall and I cry myself to sleep.

On other nights, when my mom is too busy disrupting my life to be worried about me, I lose myself in a fantasy wherein I meet Gerard at the stonewall. I imagine us sitting there, and sometimes we will just sit there next to each other, but other times I'll make up long intricate conversations where I tell him how unhappy I am to be moving across the globe, to another hemisphere, until I tumble into unconscious sleep.

Standing up from the wall to go, he pulls me into his arms gently and holding me close, he fleetingly brushes his lips over mine. The feelings it arouses in me can never be forgotten. His hands are around my waist, drawing me into him. He presses his lips against mine. It is simultaneously magical, frightening, irresistible and sensual.

As the days became shorter and the frost remains thick on the ground, we meet discreetly in the stables each afternoon. I can feel the way his hands caress my skin, the way goose bumps erupt over my entire body at his mere touch, and his soft murmuring as my body is cradled close to his.