Confession to a wolf

My dearest wolf, how delightful it is to meet you. You think you overtook me by surprise? No, you are quite mistaken. I've been longing for you. Day after day I've been watching the paths you took, the territories in which you hunted, the rivers from which you drank. Why the weird look, wolf? I am merely a girl, you caught my scent. And forgive me for smelling like a fox - our paths keep crossing each other; I am cutting the tail of vulpes vulpes with silver scissors and it keeps growing back and this madman keeps stepping on the same rake. Not my fault, now, is it. I know - you can't run with the foxes and yet hunt with the wolf. But you will make an exception for me, won't you?

You look gaunt, my dearest wolf. You are running with chain snippets asphyxiating your neck - did someone try to tame you? Dupes. Come, let me take that old collar off your fine neck. Ah, stop looking at me in such a distrustful manner. We know each other. Only it was me who's been giving you this incredulous look in the past. Closer... There. You reek of carrion, wolf. A hundred times better than reeking of the live, however. You look irritated - it is probably due to my mixed smell. Forget it: people never touch me, I act among them just like you once did - as if I were a ghost, painfully taught the art of letting go the trash of my own; the trash of the others. Calm down, it's almost done. You were a good teacher, wolf. You made a walking paradox out of me. I wrap myself into this sublime mask and never let myself be completely naked in front of anyone. Even vulpes vulpes. I projected myself according to both mine and your desires. Silently and shamefully but impudently and fearlessly at the same time. Tell me, how do you like it? Last chain and you are free. Your fur is unkept and has seen better days. Let me... stroke. What is it - your thin body is shivering? But it's me, your girl. What have they done to you? We must seek vengeance. Remember? There were times when you knew everything there was to know about vengeance. But you also understood that it is meaningless. Empty. That it hits you back. Soft fur under the tips of my fingers. You are warm, my wolf, and I am probably the only one who thinks so about such a predator that you are. But they don't know you. Like they don't know me. Not everyone is worthy to know, even more - to understand.

You are hungry, very hungry. I can see it from your eyes. How many days have you not eaten? Stop looking at me like this, enough! I will turn away, so that you couldn't interrogate me in such an insolent manner. You know better than anyone that even for a girl like me life is quite hard and feasts are rare, indeed. How ironic... You used to grin with a furious smile when talking of the crumbles dropped to you by heartless lovers, but did it ever cross your mind that they were your suppliers? Sometimes I find myself thinking whether you weren't merely theatrical, my dearest wolf, a fraud, so to speak. Were there really such days when you idealized those heartless lovers? Even if so, you merely placed them in gold trimmed plates. Was it tasty? Was it worth it? Don't lie to me, I can see the dripping spit. I won't hide it, either - I would love to moisten my little teeth into something slightly different, something very... specific. That, once again, is the result of your work, wolf - you didn't drop me crumbles, you made a feast, but it was as poisoned as those crumbles you've been eating. But I forgive you; I was the one to sink my teeth into your neck, anyway. We were worthy of each other. You laugh and bare your canine teeth. Yes, such improbabilities are not so joyful as simply leaving us to laugh or cry: we did not consume each other no matter how much we desired that, thus leaving that desire constantly alive. We garnished each other before every meal and delicately digged into the main course, ourselves, with knife and fork, a white napkin under our collars and music which we loved. You say that you are not an esthete? Now I am laughing. What canine teeth, my wolf? Remember, I am merely a girl. And we can be poisonous together.

It's getting late, my dearest wolf. Soon I will have to leave you. Now I am expected and feared for. I am wandering around rooms, digging holes in the backyard and barking on non-existent people. You, too? But you're a wolf and me - merely a girl! When you think of it, I shouldn't be surprised - we were always synchronically ill. Before I thought that it's a coincidence, later - predestination, now I am wondering who infected who. I won't hide my look anymore, you see right through me. Everyone likes my eyes: they are big, dark and expressive. You like them too, but for different reasons. First time you saw me, you said to me that you can see my shit through them. What - what is it, why are you so careful with me? Is it because of my white and fragile looking hands? It seems that if you will clutch my wrists they will shatter into dust. Ill impression. But I swear to you: I am still lifting my feather, perhaps even more often than ever. Maybe that is the reason of it? All existentialists were titanic in their thoughts but were they physically strong?

How disappointing, my wolf. I intended to flirt with you, but suddenly you became my confessor. Mea maxima culpa. No, I have nothing to do with anything. What a strange phrase - I have, with everything, and you, too, my wolf. What I've meant to say is that I have no guilt. Only an injury of one personality part. It is your favourite story - the most beautiful one with the most beautiful name... The rain drops are sliding through your smooth fur, around your eyes - let me clean them. It is sad to see how everything that conflicted our nature was taken away. And how we yearned, how we clutched into this part. It was all we had, my dearest wolf. All our impudent and shameful hopes and investments... The simple things that were so dear to us. They took it away from us. Betrayal. Betrayal. Betrayal in this sense is different than to most. You can be betrayed ten, hundred, thousand times a day. It is equal to a knife sharpener. We are like children - betrayed a million times.

Such irony, such unexpectedness - we fell in love with each other in a blink just because we truly don't know how to love! How eerie. Why are you laughing, wolf? Flirting? But I am speaking in complete seriousness. Pathologically? Ha! Said the wolf!

What is this? Fur, so I wouldn't get cold. Howling against the moon? No, I didn't hear that. Remember, I am merely a girl. And we can be betrayed together. Soft fur under the tips of my fingers. We will meet again. In a garden filled with the smell of grass and sun and soothing music. A real predator Venice carnival: me and you and even vulpes vulpes. Everyone will just follow us in surprise - and what else is left for them, really - how we will fix the napkins under our collars and grab each other into our arms. The desire to devour... is defeated by the desire to lust, my dearest wolf.