Ravisher

I know. She isn’t beautiful. It was her skin that attracted me. White as paper sheet, waiting a drawing from me. I’m not a racist, don’t get me wrong. I like it for other reasons. I’ll confess: I liked her because it seemed to fuck a dead body. Expect for the fact she was warm. So it was perfect. She made no sound, ever. Her eyes were empty and her face has no expression. And she liked this way. When she came once in a while I heard a whisper, but it sounds like a last sigh. Now, nine years since she broke with me, I have this funny sensation. It is like she’s really dead. I miss her.