Anuradha Bhowmik 112 Battle Lane

Inamorata

She told me to meet her where the sea touched the sky, where the world began. She was the feather moon and the scarlet sky, and I loved her endlessly. She bathed my naked heart in lullabies. She translated the forgotten dialect of my love, occupying the vacancy of my heart.

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I place the mix she made me on my nineteenth birthday into the CD player of the car. I trace my fingers over the handwritten block-letters which spelled “Happy Birthday Chris!” in alternating baby blue and lime green Sharpie marker. I skip to track 8 as I shut my eyes and remember her smile, her mesmerizing, eye-blinding smile.

I placate my shaking fingers with a firm grip upon the steering wheel as I recollect fragments of her lullaby, which had been flowing through my heart ever since our last goodbye. I was trembling for her warmth, her flame flickering deep within the confines of my mind. No longer would she be able to nourish my soul with the melody of her breathing. She haunted me with her scent, imprinting me where she left scars of her desire. I reminisce of tracing the outlines of her tender lips, her kisses hard and raw with passion. She sent flames through my blood, infusing every part of my being with her glow.

Fresh salt-stains scatter upon the blue-green striped flannel she bought me. My voice trembles like a violin string as my shoulders shake. I would dream only of her. I had to feel her in the marrow of my bones again, through the crevices of my skin within which her gentle voice resonates. The clear liquid of my cloudy eyes is not enough to conjure her flesh against my lips. Instead, I am bereft of her beauty and left with a painful melancholy. The stitches which held my fragile heart together were fraying. I wish she could save me from the part of me beseeching to die without her.

I stare out the window into the clouds, unraveled like white vanilla silk into the sky. I remember her laugh as she threw her head back into the sky to find the abyss where we would one day be reunited. It was as if she already knew we would find our way back to each other through the sky. My eyes sting as I catch a glimpse of the black suit in the rearview mirror hanging above the window of the backseat. I shut them tight, not allowing myself to lose sight of her. I pull out the map marked with her favorite places in South Jersey as I head up the ramp onto the Garden State Parkway. I had to sense her once more.

I remember the browned pages of the nature scrapbook we made. I would feel the crinkled orchid petals and find her face within the flowers. She was born with roses in her speckled chestnut eyes. We broke into the mist at sunrise, peering out into a field of daffodils under a canopy of vines nestled over our heads. The sky was streaked with rose drenched pastels. Cherry blossoms were blown from the trees as they drifted into the tranquil air. Underneath the gated archway, she sat atop of me in a rocking chair. She coiled around me like the vines above, her and the leaves both straining for the sun. Behind the sleepy fog were faint illusions of dark elm trees against the amber sky, huddling together after feeling our warmth.

She was the crimson rose adored by the morning sun. She greeted the sun with burning ecstasy as mists of frosty air danced within the tangles of her hair. I was the cartographer of her ringlets as they fell across the corner of her smile. I buried myself in her mahogany tresses as the scent of honey blossoms drifted into me. Her scent wound around my limbs like spider silk. It was romance and harmony intertwined with strawberries, violet leaves, honeysuckles, and caramel. As she lifted her hand to wave to the sun, the thin fragile yellows of sunlight danced in between the spaces of her fingers. They wrapped around her hand like a second skin.

She arose suddenly from my hold and grabbed my arm. We ran towards a bed of marigolds as I clutched her waist and we tumbled into the layers of orange and burnt mahogany. We lay on our sides as she placed her hand upon my cheek. She left her fingerprints on my skin, embedding them into the fibers of my being. I placed my lips upon the moon-shaped birthmark on her forehead as my eyes peered into the blue. The entire sky was alive through her mind’s eye. Her lips found their place on top of mine as love simmered beneath the surface, breaking the morning stillness. I licked the melted sunrise off of her lips. She was the pause in between each pulse. Our lips were the layered petals of carnations, alternating into and out of each other, learning each other’s topography. I looked down upon her as she looked up from below. Her fingers grasped the ground beneath her into fists as the world ceased to spin. I explored the freckled constellations on the canvas of her cheeks, their composure forever manifested in the tender fibers of my memory.

We sat side by side on the bench, our legs interlaced, as we watched passing cars through tree branches of the arboretum. Headlights reflected light, illuminating her face, projecting shooting stars upon its delicate surface. At the end of the clearing, I caught glimpses of the wooden archway of the bridge which led to a playground, the chains of the tire swing reflecting in dim light. I could see the sign which read “No Trespassing After 9 PM” and smiled.

She gazed at the night sky while I gazed at her. As she blew off seeds of a dandelion, her breath swirled through the cool night in wisps, twirling and searching for the light. The stars were buried in the glassy darkness of her eyes, her pupils becoming reflections of perfect moon. Light fell through trees as the patterns of leaves fell across her body. She told me I was the sun, the morning star which loved with a fiery heart, composed of fire, the flames, and the afterglow. She traced the indentations on the sides of my lip and across the surface of my cheekbones as I smiled. She was the candle within my eyes as her face reflected the light within them.

Our silhouettes were the dim-lit projections of our souls. The stars were mapped after her freckles within the ink-stained sky. The midnight breeze kissed our necks, sending trembles down our bodies. It traveled through the silence and the stillness, delighting her bare shoulders as I descended into her dreamy haze. I fixate on her collarbones, the valleys and grooves upon her skin, the contours of her neck. My heartbeat synchronizes with the rise and fall of her chest within a mellow haze. I desired to kiss away the ridges and lines created by bone and flesh. I wanted to run my lips upon the spine of her body, over the jagged bones and across the delicate fuzz. As she kissed my neck, feathers swayed and fell within my heart. As her eyelids fluttered, her gentle fingertips danced over my chest and soothed my racing heart. Our murmurs mingled into the twilight of the night.

I sensed her muscles contract and her nerve endings tremor as our bodies spilled over each other in the trance of friction. My staccato breaths were released from my trembling lungs and drawn into her anticipant ears. I trace my tongue across her ribs to taste her beating heart. Her gentle fingers traced the soft skin of my back, lifting the delicate hairs of my neck with a chill in a brush of her passion. Our hipbones slid closer and closer, us melting into one another. As we kissed, chilled drizzles made way onto my burning tongue as we dissolved into the celestial glow.

4

Exit 28 – Ocean City, NJ
Ocean City Boardwalk

We passed 6^th Street and came across Gillian’s Wonderland Pier with its red spiraled castle. A young boy in corduroy overalls held hands with his pig-tailed sister in a Hello Kitty t-shirt as they ran past the ticket booth and into Playland’s Castaway Cove. The carousel hummed in the background as teenaged girls with flat-ironed hair and frayed jean shorts selected designs for airbrush tattoos in a neighboring booth. We walked past henna shops and tattoo parlors and signs advertising feather hair extensions. Fortune tellers and palm readers awaited outside their venues as signs advertised tarot card readings. The flashing lights of Mack and Manco’s Pizza reflected the smiles of children holding the colossal spirals of soft-serve ice cream cones from Kohr’s Brothers and those who flashed their tongues immersed in Dippin’ Dots. We passed Asbury Avenue and walked past Red Rose, the used bookstore where she bought Requiem for a Dream. A humble teenaged girl handed out free samples outside of Laura’s Fudge Shop as the scent of rich milk chocolate, homemade salt water taffy, and Johnson’s Caramel Popcorn permeated into the moist air.

Her threaded hemp bracelets dangled up and down her arm as she pulled back wisps of hair, tousled by the wind, behind her ears. The edges of her smile complemented the luminescence of the Ferris wheel in the distance. I watched her struggle to tear chunks of funnel cake as smudges of powdered sugar and maple syrup immersed her fingertips and the sides of her mouth. She never looked more perfect.

We looked up at the roaring grey tumbles of the sky as her mouth dropped in anticipation. Droplets of water trickled down her face as her skin glowed in an ethereal effulgence. The neighboring faces across the wooden boards of the promenade made their way under the roofs of shops while she stood there motionless in the clearing.

She stood upon her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. I lifted her into the air as she wrapped her legs around my waist and tilted her head down to kiss my nose. Her cheeks blushed with scarlet as the cold rain descended upon her, into the tendrils of her hair which hung in damp jagged successions down her shoulders. With my head in her hands, our noses scrunched together. Our jaws hinged as our tongues followed their delicate choreography. My hands clutched onto the damp fabric of her white dress, illuminated by her golden essence which shined into my pupils before I dared to blink. She placed her wrinkled palms on my chest. My heart was her open book, and she bookmarked and folded the edges of my pages by her own discretion.

5

Exit 25 – Longport, NJ
13^th Avenue Beach

The scent of burnt midnight filled the air with sweetness and mystique. She was the reflection of moonlight across the stormy waters of the sea. We were the rapture upon the shore.

We make our way past the empty lifeguard post and an upturned wooden canoe with the words “Longport City Beach Patrol” painted upon them. I caught sight of the silver feather charms on the strings of her bathing suit. They intersected the faint trail of delicate hairs leading from the base of her neck, over her pebbled spine, and down the small of her back.

The molten waves broke gently over the golden sands. As way lay down upon the cool jetty, my fingers traced the streams of sweat trailing down her body, navigating the rivers and roads to reach her. They stopped above her hipbones, the flesh pulled taut to reveal the symmetrical indentations, as I outlined the curves of her hips. I waded along the hypnotic waves of her heaving chest and settled into the calm of her stomach, drifting above the dip of her belly button. The valley created by her ribs and hipbones would be my sanctuary as the moonlight and sand sifted through layers of my russet hair. The warmth of my breath made its way onto her caramel skin as I left goosebumps across the places I kissed. The static between us led me to grasp her hands as my blood whispered her name. I kiss her wrists tenderly as I trace over the veins trailing down her arm. I shivered as the feathers of her breath trailed gently across my skin, whispering me to sleep.

The autumn leaves scatter into the wind as the sun radiates through the blush sky streaked with blue haze. The damp air and the foggy ground lure me into a calm dream as the crisp breeze nurtures me in its tranquility. Elongated shadows and soft light shine through weeping branches and boughs, across the lake, and overhead. Sunlight and mist coalesce to heal the shattered earth.