Perhaps it wasn’t a real bite. Perhaps it was just an ‘almost got me’ bite.
I think it was real. But the swelling and redness is going down now. I’m almost cured.
Other bites take longer to heal. Some take years and even decades. When they get to you at a young and tender age then there’s no help for it. You have no defences. No way to fight.
Love is a mysterious thing. It’s almost like a force but it has energy too. And it’s an entity that’s separate from the lover and the loved. Touch it and it grabs on. Hold it and it escapes. Feel it and you’re lost.
Those who say that love is a virtue err. They want it to be a force for good, but it eats us more than it feeds us.
I was bitten long ago.
I still think of her. Not too much, but often enough. I wonder where she is and how she is keeping. Yet I sleep well at night and hope she does too.
Because she did not do this to me. She is innocent. It is love that bears the guilt. Love and the tender chaos she sows.
For love never dies and love never sleeps and love is as red as the blood she drinks and then spills into the uncaring gutter.
And now I must go.