Lilith, Give Me My Lungs

Gentle water lapped at her ankles. In the reflection of the water, she focused mainly on the glimmering stars above. Of course, she also shows in the reflection, though her face only lights by the strength of the stars and the moon, giving her a washed-out appearance.

Though she spends most of her night avoiding her own stare, she notices the changes in her own face. Her skin shifts into a greenish blue, the tint emphasizing her almost black eyes. Her reflection’s lips have grown plumper and rounder, almost as if in a permanent pucker.

A small gasp escapes her throat, so soft that her ears may be the only ones to hear it. Her appearance that seemed to change does not belong to her, but rather a woman below the water. She sees the woman allow water to dribble out of her mouth as she breaches the surface.

The woman from the water clutches onto the other woman’s white dress, “I am Lilith,” she says. Lilith grabs higher on her dress, guiding her into the water. When they are both in the water, Lilith takes her own hand and moves it along the woman’s spine slowly.

Lilith dips into the cold water, dragging her along until she speaks, “Lilith, I can’t breathe down there.” Lilith’s eyes still her as she sinks further into the murky water. Though her eyes sting from the sea-matter, she still trains them onto Lilith. Her lungs soon begin to pulse in time with her heartbeat as she held the air deep inside them.

She reaches out to the surface, searching for a solid object to pull herself up into the air she needs. Lilith watches for only a moment before stopping her from moving. As Lilith brings one of her hands to the woman’s chest, she notices the stiletto shape that her nails take.

Lilith uses her nails as a scalpel, creating a divot in the woman’s thoracic cavity. The inky color of the pond around them makes it hard to see as Lilith replaces her shriveling lungs with a white lilac. The lilac’s petals curl in on themselves, tinted with a diseased black. Though the woman’s urge to breathe doesn’t leave, she doesn’t sputter as her chest fills with water.

The water that surrounds them turns darker and darker until the only thing visible is the glow of Lilith’s pale skin. That is all the light that Lilith deems necessary as they touch the bottom of the stream.

The woman’s dress floats in tatters, the fabric practically absent. For the first time, the woman notices Lilith’s lack of any cloth. Somehow, the woman feels more naked than her, shrinking under Lilith’s gaze that reminds her of a divine judgment. Perhaps Lilith is divine. This is the only space where she and Lilith can co-exist, otherwise, the woman would dissolve from Lilith’s godly body.

Lilith lays down on the sandy floor, her ginger hair swaying gently with the weak current. The woman collapses next to her, aching to get closer but unsure if she is allowed.

She feels her heart pounding at the ethereal woman, only slightly ashamed of the slight pulse from in between her thighs.

“Lilith,” she says, words muffled intensely by the water, “Do you feel what I do?” Lilith runs her hand up her thigh, only stopping when it is firmly pressed against the woman’s mons pubis.

Lilith drags her hand around the woman’s anatomy, whispering with surprising clarity, “Not at all.” With no enthusiasm, Lilith shifts on top of the woman, pressing her freezing body against the woman. Lilith’s fingertips leave traces of goosebumps, and her lips send shivers down the woman’s spine.

As the woman reaches the pinnacle of her delight, Lilith moves away until the woman gently eases her to her own side. With their bodies side by side, their chests against each other, Lilith can feel the woman’s heart thrumming wildly. The woman, however, feels nothing but the same numbing skin.

“You have no heart, Lilith.”

“No. I told you,” Lilith says, “I don’t feel what you do. Not at all.”

The woman does not protest as Lilith drudges them both up from the warm bottom of the stream, reaching the surface with time. Lilith wraps her thin fingers around the woman’s waist, slowly pushing her against the water’s surface tension.

“Lilith, you are cruel. You take my heart and now leave me with nothing.”

Lilith lays her on the firm ground as she speaks, “You are wrong. It was not your heart I took.”

And as the moonlight filters across Lilith’s face, the woman tries to gasp at how beautiful she is. Her breath, however, does not come. The flower in her chest wilts as she sucks in air that will not come.

A beautiful smile crosses Lilith’s face, making her heart race more as Lilith disappears into the murky water.

With her dying body, the woman cries into the frozen night air, “Lilith, give me my lungs.”