A Love Bite

A love bite, administered at the height of passion, not on the comfort of a fluffy bed, but against a hard, cold and wet tiled wall of a dimly lit toilet cubicle; not carelessly placed on the vulnerable skin on the neck so as to cause embarrassment, but thoughtfully dispensed on the tender yet firm flesh on the butt, to conceal it from undeserving attention.

A love bite, with its surrounding blood vessels sucked to destruction, yet existence is subtle like the lingering perfume of faceless strangers by the street, like the quiet fluttering of butterflies amongst roses in full bloom, but at times, apparent like the certain, though faint, throbbing of an infant’s heart, like the intense and incessant flickering of a light bulb gone mad.

A love bite, an intentional poison, an evil plan, a wicked arrangement, to extend physical complications beyond expiry. It forms a reminder to facilitate easy, though often undesirable, reminiscence of a vivid, intimate, episode from the not-so-distant past, from the recently concluded ending, and for the victim to quietly savour, yet again, pleasure long lost, contentment long gone, delight long vanished.

A love bite, gradually it fades away, as with all short-lived memories. Burst blood vessels heal, intimacy gone, feelings put down, heart is mend, hurt is forgotten. Soon, the skin is clear again, and the victim emerged unfazed, unperturbed, untroubled, and is ready to brave the world once more.

A love bite ...

A love ...

A ...

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BRAVEHEART ^[93]