I wanted to wear sweetheart corsets, covered in pale gold brocade. To have my fair breasts taunt the bottom lashes of my own eyes. To imitate the double entendre’s of generations prior. And I did so. Sometimes with great success. Other times, I was denounced as being utterly ridiculous.
My soul has always been old, reaching back to sensations that bring about a déjà vu.
I dreamt once of being overcome by the passionate Russian sounds that remind me of a violent tenderness; of hands swiping mid air at phantoms, of a cruel decadence; all those attributes that cause my skin to shiver in excitement. To recoil in fear.
To lament for man. As I am both attracted to the gilded and the tarnished.
I began to live outside of myself, as a writer, as a poet; harking back to family folklore— about turn of the century revolutions, about abject poverty, prostitution, about going hungry; while the skeletal remains of countrymen fought in a war of liberation.
My mystique is in my historical blood.
My desire to evoke stories stems from it.
I smoked cigars. I smelled of expensive French perfume. I drank the finest rum and sherry’s. I gently rolled and wore black netting over my face; as I behaved as if I breathed daily in a Truffaut movie; with bordeaux lips, and raven locks pinned away and up; showcasing my neck and the hard collar you gave me.
I saw this image of myself, as a small child; who had monsters and angels awaken what lurks within. I remember now and accept the omen I was once made privy to.
I lived and romanced. Died with every heartbreak. Rose from endless engraved stone sepulcher’s, as I am mischief— a woman filled with passions, who sets fires to them atop sacred used pyres; who worships as I pull back at my own skin, until I have bloodlet myself, my memories, my sinful ambitions and more.
As my world spins on the course of love and self truths.
I was at one time, regrettably encouraged to be ordinary, as no one ever considered me much more, but my mind would not accept this.
And so now I dance to my own song. I drink the life of a thousand Gods and spill all my emotions, to make sense of this life I was gifted with…because I dare to imagine myself.