Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Chiaroscuro

Knock knock.
She opened the door.
In flash of light, I see something that is beyond my understanding of instinct and control. I nudge my friend in the arm. He knew I was paralyzed.
I am frozen by how much I can feel my thighs start shaking at the sight of her.
Like out of my dreams, smooth, black and with raw wisdom in her eyes that attracts me to her like a moth to a flame.
I am speechless and enticed by her beautiful, Medusa hair, and her masterful presence.

It is impossible; she could never fall for a woman like me.
I am extraordinarily tempted to want to tell her how much she has shaken my world, but now is not the time.

I think it was fate. I felt the roots of her intertwined with the ribbon of my desires. I did not know how to act, I knew that I felt. I wanted to kiss her. I was shy, but this was different. I couldn’t get her out of my head. I didn’t want to get her out of my head.

Eventually, we sat on her couch. I with my hands folded still neatly, yet my thighs still contorting with some sort of a possession at the thought of her being beside me. This could not be true. I somehow built up the courage. I wanted to kiss her.
Our lips met, my heart skipped a beat.

Sunrise. I was smiling in bed thinking of her the next morning. I could smell her skin. I could feel her luscious lips, her breathing me in like perfume on a satin wrist. Everything about her from the moment I first woke up. I smiled. I did not want to bug her, she is always a busy bee. I needed to tell her how she made me heart sing.

She was singing when I caught her. How could I tell her she made me skip a beat? I told her and I waited to see her face again. She is a busy bee. I knew this was impossible. She does not have time for a woman like me. I wish she did.

Who’s there?
Comfort and condolences.
I loose something that I will never forget. I carry it in my heart shaped pocket.
She feels what I feel, she tells me so.
I feel love.
I feel sad.
Comfort, I wrap up tight in her arms at night, on the couch. The space is small, but the scent of her makes me want to explode with gratitude.
She was there.
A composition of darkness.

Where do we go from here?
Swept away from you.
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