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perfectly_chaotic
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There is still a moment, a memory, which is more like a mental imprint of a feeling. The feeling that preceeded the moment our lips met. The warm stony buzz behind my eyelids as we laid there holding one another and the moment, which had seemed to be approaching all day, was about to arrive. The glow in the dark which seems more like an impressionistic painting of two auras dancing in the silhouette of midnight's shadow. A glow so bright one could see it through closed eyelids. The day's tension was wound up like a spring and this was it, the raw and tender moment in which that tension was quickly being unwound in what now seems like it must have lasted one thousand aeons. All leading up to that one moment where our lips met and left us laughing like a couple of preschoolers as we made out until the rising sun said it was time to rest.
If only such moments didn't come with the pricetag of having them measured up to other moments.
In the aftermath part of me still misses her in a way I cannot describe. Her hand upon my cheek was more intoxicating than any chemical cocktail I have ever encountered. Her tender lips were fuller than a kettle as it boils over and makes a mess of the place. My mind was such a mess. My life felt like it was a train wreck waiting to happen and so I made it so. A self-fulfilling prophecy... Sorry.
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110814
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