v u l v a l i c i o u s
Cunts From Herstory
She called me yesterday, and it was strange and comforting and exciting all at once. Hers was the last voice I expected to hear, and so when I caught her quick catches and endless thoughts, I was stunned.
When I saw her this summer, she was cold and distant--I hugged her and she let me, but only briefly. Walking away, I could only think of what I had done to deserve her anger. She told me yesterday that it had been residual hurt from days gone by.
Difficult to decipher, but beautiful to know.
I can remember the way she smelled without even thinking about it. Sweet, flowery, passionate, child-like, yet very intense and adult. She wore Poeme, and when I tried it on I smelled like old ladies who have too many cats. She was more than her perfume. Her scent was the essence of her Self, and it stayed on my clothes and my bedsheets the way that she stayed in my mind.
I sat in class writing the words to Alix Olson's "Checking my Pulse" after the first night she stayed with me.
Sweet, beautiful, intelligent smile. Troubled. Intense. Possessed. Perfect.
And I remember when I knew that I had hurt her, when she cried and I apologized; I hadn't realized her intensity, I didn't understand her nooks and crannies. She was with someone who did, and I was happy for her; she was happy for herself, and yet she cried. Emotional Libra tears, an air spirit ruled by truth and beauty and an irrepressible sense of justice.
I apologized. Again and again.
And she has forgiven me again, though she will hate me again soon, I am certain. And I love her for it. And I miss her.
And she will continue following me around until I see her again; I will find grrls who hold the world as she did, gentle souls who speak in poetry and emotion, who seek their Selves in dark shadows and shine brightly amidst everyone else. I will meet the ones who move like her, talk like her, cock their heads to the side and question things like her. I will notice from afar the ones who look like her, beautiful mouths and intense eyes and a head of short, fluffy hair. She will follow me, and perhaps, as she said on the phone, I will follow her as well.
Because sometime cunts have unfinished business, and I think ours must.