“Self-deceit is my natural state of being,”
she said
one midsummer afternoon
when it poured with fat raindrops
of tickling cool relief from the swelter.
I asked,
“What does that mean?”
and she replied,
“I couldn’t tell you if I tried.”
She was my height and slender,
her face soft, rain falling down her cheeks like tears,
and with expressive eyes the same colour
as mine.
She wore a white dress, the soaked fabric
diaphanous,
clinging to her contours, revealing
white lace undergarments through which cream skin
peeked.
“You love me better this way,”
she said.
“I love you differently.
But I’m happier this way,
yes.”
My red t-shirt became maroon in the downpour
and my jeans were blue, ripped at the knees.
I was heavy
with self-neglect and side effects--
I hadn’t shaved in weeks
and I was exhausted from the burden of
masculinity.
“What do you know about being a man?”
I asked her.
She touched my face with her small soft hand,
rain dripping
from my hair into my eyes,
cascading to my chin,
the torrential shower washing away the sweat from
chasing her.
“As much as you do,”
she replied.
“Self-deceit is my natural state of being,”
I said
one midsummer afternoon
alone in the rain
standing in the middle of the road in the Ontarian countryside
and knowing
the melancholic shroud over me is the echoes
of a fractured identity
crying
to be made whole.
Author Bio:
Robert Crown is a Canadian writer. Their work focuses on the complexities and contradictions of character and explores LGBTQ+ themes, psychology and philosophy while spanning multiple genres. When not writing, they produce music under the name Heretic Lies, playing several instruments including guitar, piano and ukulele. Their flash fiction appeared in Foliate Oak Literary Magazine under the pseudonym Brechin Frost, and their novelette Our Love Is Havoc is available on Amazon. They currently live in western Nova Scotia near the Atlantic Ocean, finding new inspiration in the natural beauty of the province.
she said
one midsummer afternoon
when it poured with fat raindrops
of tickling cool relief from the swelter.
I asked,
“What does that mean?”
and she replied,
“I couldn’t tell you if I tried.”
She was my height and slender,
her face soft, rain falling down her cheeks like tears,
and with expressive eyes the same colour
as mine.
She wore a white dress, the soaked fabric
diaphanous,
clinging to her contours, revealing
white lace undergarments through which cream skin
peeked.
“You love me better this way,”
she said.
“I love you differently.
But I’m happier this way,
yes.”
My red t-shirt became maroon in the downpour
and my jeans were blue, ripped at the knees.
I was heavy
with self-neglect and side effects--
I hadn’t shaved in weeks
and I was exhausted from the burden of
masculinity.
“What do you know about being a man?”
I asked her.
She touched my face with her small soft hand,
rain dripping
from my hair into my eyes,
cascading to my chin,
the torrential shower washing away the sweat from
chasing her.
“As much as you do,”
she replied.
“Self-deceit is my natural state of being,”
I said
one midsummer afternoon
alone in the rain
standing in the middle of the road in the Ontarian countryside
and knowing
the melancholic shroud over me is the echoes
of a fractured identity
crying
to be made whole.
Author Bio:
Robert Crown is a Canadian writer. Their work focuses on the complexities and contradictions of character and explores LGBTQ+ themes, psychology and philosophy while spanning multiple genres. When not writing, they produce music under the name Heretic Lies, playing several instruments including guitar, piano and ukulele. Their flash fiction appeared in Foliate Oak Literary Magazine under the pseudonym Brechin Frost, and their novelette Our Love Is Havoc is available on Amazon. They currently live in western Nova Scotia near the Atlantic Ocean, finding new inspiration in the natural beauty of the province.
RSS Feed