Tarek El Kassouf
She is cold elegance. She is lonesome beauty. She courses inaccessible sensuality. She is contempt for him. But contempt as a defence.
Dog-like he is keen to impress. But he has encroached upon her territory. Her personal space; intruded into her pain trapped behind flawlessness.
She may be naked but she is clad in armour. There is nothing spoken. Her eyes shoot: “Run away little boy”.

The pleasurer is ravenous; gluttonous for her, lying delicate, disclothed and disclosed, but emotionally blurred, bleared, obscured, and closed. But that pleasure. From a touch, and gentle exploration it builds. Sexual reconnaissance. Moving along her body, finding an ecstatic harbour.
He is in her. Heart quakes. Blood blitzes. Breathing becomes heaving. Receiving. Bodies weaving. Muscles contract. Involuntarily. Rhythmically. A transient peak, to an altered state of consciousness. Of cognizance. A shared consciousness. This is being human. Euphoric and intoxicated. Floating in time.

Tumbling in tumult. Just another snip of time. From between his legs I see her pain. They had become separated after the tension by the pool. But she knows she’s the betrayer. A time of self sabotage. A time of self destruction. A time of cheating; justified as discrete infidelity.

Now she is upside down. Falling in devastation, knowing she has stabbed at the heart of the only love that is really important. A knife held by insecurity. A need for flesh. A need for anyone. Right in the moment when loneliness is all that she is. A naked touch that soothes. Anything is okay as long as it stops her feeling. Makes her numb. Makes her come. Again. A weapon forged by pain trapped behind flawlessness, struck into his heart, over, and over, and over, again, and again; through infidelity.
Her wound wounds him. And, now, I am falling with her down those stairs. She has lost herself. It is just done. He has taken everything. No matter what she does, she has lost the person she was before. Because she has been taken by that other human being. She longs for the most beautiful death someone can have. This is the opposite.

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