The Guard at my Door

Her right leg is placed between his two over-sized, thickly grown thighs. Her left laying near the warmth they radiate. Her torso is curved slightly, so that she may lay comfortably on his chest. She spreads her two hands, and ten delicate fingers, and rests her chin within the triangle her thumbs create. Her eyes have adjusted to the dim light, the yellow gaze of the street lamps, that seek the nights stories. His arms are lifted, and hands elevating his neck to look low at her resting head. They have revealed their fears, their passions and have sung songs, trying desperately to figure out the lyrics that are so easily forgotten and replaced with sound-a-likes. He's the songs alto, it's constant, soulful and reliable; she is the songs soprano, sings low and sweet to not awaken the others. They have talked and have dreamed of horrors and pleasures; of what should never be and what is only a fantasy; they have dreamt of others, that have found that weak and battered door to their sub-conscious. Those are the dreams that seem too real, too possible - like the risks we endure everyday.
She reveals to him her dream - that black and mischievous mask, that is discreet during daylight but blunt and unapologetic when all is asleep.


She had been at a strangers house, possibly a party where she could not find familiarity - in faces or in circumstance. She was sober and aware, unfortunately her greatest faults. She had walked down a white, bland hallway with doors to her right. She stopped at the furthest one, and without hesitating opened it. She shouldn't have. What brought her to do so is unknown, but that was not her fear at that moment.
Laying curled on the bed, lined directly to her right - was a girl. Her face is irrelevant - it could be anyone's, any girl so vulnerable and exposed to the demons of immorality, indecency, temptation and control. She commanded, in a quick but calm voice - like those of professional firemen or officers that invoke safety in those in need with their tone,
"Get out. I'll stay."
She left. It wasn't clear what would happen to her. Maybe he'd realize it wasn't the girl he wanted, but some stand-in with less appeal. Maybe this is what she wished would happen.
She climbed onto the bed, every movement sure of what she was doing - although her mind did not grasp the severity of the situation.
She lay on her stomach, arm hanging of the bed side, head resting on her chin - on a pillow that brought someone comfort but relished in the few moments it would witness more than a sleeping mind. She lay and heard voices outside the door, people enjoying themselves - people unaware.
With only a few moments, not nearly enough the convince her to get out... he entered.
A tall man but thin. That's all she can recall.
That is when her heart began to race, when her mind began to scrabble - attempting to figure a way to get out or a way to achieve protection. God! If anyone had only known the anxiety and the fear that made every nerve, every spec of common sense lose itself - uncoordinated.
For having always tried to be safe and sure, expecting the unexpected, she was lost.
He stood over her...

That is when she awoke. The fear had been too great, too real - that not even sleep could constrain her in her adrenaline.
She was stunned. And looked hastily around her room... just to make sure....


But now, she was resting above a heartbeat that would not falter, that would not commit her to brutality.
And when she would leave, and return to her room where she thought that nothing would ever betray her - she would remember that she was here. That she was not in harms way, that if he could he would stand all day and all night at her conscious' door and refuse all trespassers. That she could be brave and save another from rape, but would rather be in the presence of a man, who would understand her needs and treat her body with innocent passion, with care and concern but not restraint. He would let her guide, and listen to her moans and decipher that they were inviting. But if she were to go silent - he would pull away and show her that sex was merely an outlet for the intensity of his feelings. Because even in lying there - his arms wrapped behind his head, and hers laying and listening on his chest - he was feeling immense and true love.