Pillow Talk With God


Introduction:
This piece is one in a chronological series, set in a universe.
Feel free to find the others here, and to browse through any companion piece, set in the same universe.
 Witches
1. Three Frenemies 2. Fall Coven Meet 3. BeingLovedAgain 4. The Fourth Witch
6. The Three Questions 
7. Seed 8. Garden Graveyard Heart 9. The Cook
10. River Witch 11. Rage
12. Reincarnation 14. Hate
15. Rage and Her Spells of Power
17. Truth – Rhymes With Ruth
Goddesses

5.  Memory Elephant 12. Reincarnation  13. Memory and Mudbaths
16. OtherSide 18. Pillow Talk With God 19. She, Named E

Companion Pieces

May 22 – Part 1  Stone Lady  Paper Boots  Dredge    Half Yours, Half His    Flower Seller
When You Must End Love    Talk   Scorpio Rising    Pretty Men, Stone Lady
From The Olive Pit to Gratitude  Reliability dead girl Soft Witch

 

 

PTWG

Art by Sarah Alinia Ziazi, website here: https://www.sarahaliniaziazi.com/

Excerpt below. For the full text, visit: Pillow Talk With God, published through nuance!

She looks up at me, chin resting between my breasts. “So, what is love?” She asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Take a guess,” she encourages.

“Am I supposed to say something cliche like ‘you! God is love!’” I ask sarcastically.

“No,” She says seriously. “I’m asking a serious question.” Outside, the moon hides behind a cloud.

“I thought it was something sacred,” I say slowly. “Something special. Seeing yourself in someone. Them seeing themselves in you. Room to help each other. Trust that they would be there. Choosing one another. Choosing to stay. Something like that, I guess that’s what I thought it was.” The words feel wooden, and hollow in my mouth.

“And what do you think it is now?” She asks. Who knows, I wonder. A farce. A fever dream. A joke. A lie. I don’t really have words for how disillusioned I am about it so I stay silent and just shake my head.

“I felt so foolish,” I say, my voice tight like a violin string about to snap.

“Why?” He asks, pointedly.

“Hubris, I think,” I say, my lips twisting in a smile of sheer humiliation. Silly, stupid me. “I think…I felt during the time I was with him, that if my love was honest enough, my intentions true enough, that… even if it ended it would have been enough. Some bullshit about how it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all or some crap. But it wasn’t. After it was done, I saw how…useless and small and…tiny my love was. The truth is… I can’t go through that again. I just can’t.”

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