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Black Magic Heat

They say that hell is not hot.

And my first night in Rio de Janeiro proved to be a scorching one.

I had everything packed and ready to go. I glanced one last time at my open suitcase before closing it. My gun, my passports, a bunch of cash and an extra pair of torn-up jeans, everything was in its place. "It's my obsessive-compulsive personality disorder", I sighed. Everything, right where it belongs.

I made my way out of the hotel room, where my perfectly made bed awaited to be violently unmade by the next guests.

There are two kinds of hotel room users. One type is the one, like me, that after binging on whiskey and beer chasers, has to crash and recover from all the self-inflicted wounds, everlasting scars of memorable past stories.  The tear-stained face that has been running away from their fate. The second kind is the one that has decided to hide under the bedsheets and escape their boring everyday life in the company of their partner in crime. A guest that is never alone and patiently sticks around until the gentle and almost deaf knock comes up on the door. So that both can live a life of their own even if its just a matter of minutes. It doesn't matter what kind you are, sobbing is always involved.

My dad had never been around, but I never thought I had daddie issues, yet the new Ghost song always made me question my sanity. And the fact that my friend had had a dream about him made me a bit uneasy. And whenever I felt that way, the only medicine was to drink and sing to my favorite songs.


You've been playing
Around with magic that is black
But all the powerful magical mysteries
Never gave a single thing back
You've been daddied
By all the dudes that were not dad
And all of those dads never gave you
The things that you should've had



She was waiting outside my hotel. Clad in a black Moschino dress with a red heart across her bosom. Long black-as-the-night hair and smeared red lipstick in such a way that it would match her devilish smile. Chance by Chanel flooded the air as I got in her psychedelic candy red convertible.  Our eyes clicked as they had always done. It had been years since we had seen each other, but it felt like it had been days since our last conclave.

As soon as I shut the door close, she hit the gas and on we went. She knew how to make her machine roar. It was like a hungry dragon claiming its prey. She swerved and zigzagged to the rhythm of the music playing on her car's stereo.  She moved her automobile as if they were one. This night was going to be a memorable one and we both knew it.

Stella was laying on the back seat. I tried eyeing it without losing track of the road ahead. She must have noticed for she muttered: "Go ahead, try it". I knew then that I would never forget that night with her.






Hermes Villafana
15/9/2019




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Comments

  1. iiiSeptember 15, 2019 at 1:40 PM

    🖤🖤🖤

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. UnknownSeptember 27, 2019 at 11:24 PM

      🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

      Delete
  2. UnknownSeptember 15, 2019 at 6:10 PM

    The night that would me tattooed forever in our minds ❤️

    ReplyDelete

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