Monday, 22 July 2019


You see, to me, I don’t care who knows whatever I feel about you. You’re that picture that I’ve always dreamed of, wanted, needed, desired within all of this messed up world. I listen to music, while I imagine the words upon your lips. I read a book and just want to have you say all of the words.

It’s okay. I know that I’m looking at you, in that way, the way, that a man should. Forget the romance, as we’ve done that, been there and will continue to explore and love. This is real life, raw, realistic, the very moment we’re holding right now. I know that this could be all in my imagination, but I’m not ready to let go, not yet, not for a while. You’re still here, in front of me, keeping me warm.

That first day, when you shouted at me for knocking over your drink, will reside within infamous glory. I didn’t care that your tempter raised the roof, as I soon realised that the weight of the world was upon your very shoulders. I cared because, from that very first second, I knew that I had to have you. Be around you, kiss you against a wall, ensuring that we fell into each other, the more we explored.

Yeah, you fitted me. Perfectly fine. I just wanted every single inch of you, upon me, over me, doing all of the things we enjoyed. I ensured that my body made you say my name, over and over again. Each time you smiled, expressed yourself with such words that would make a religious person run for cover, I met those words with thoughts of my own. Actions befell, to either of us that held the rope. We held on, as tightly as possible, knowing that this ride of life could end at any moment.

We drank wine, eat those naughty items of life, then realised that we’d always be each other’s deserts. We’d often laugh, late at night, realising that we’d done nothing all day, as well as the night, apart from talk. The stupor lasting until we really had to do, what we had to do.

We clicked. We rocked. We rolled across many, many floors, never wishing for any of this to end. I’m just looking at you, remembering that your eyes said so many words. I’d give you that smile, say a few words, which fell away to clothes being thrown around, if we’d even manage to remove them. The urgency, the slow moments, the immoral tendency to enjoy each other, knew no bounds.

I’d say this, then you’d say that. I’d kiss you, then you’d kiss me. The ease, the life we all wanted, right there being lived. We were truthful from the very start, sick of the daily grind and bull from most areas.

You see, to me, you were the perfect picture of the way I wished life to be. That legendary one moment and chance to be taken. I took that chance. I truly did but, as with many things, the fairy tale ends. You’re then left with the realisation that the picture within your mind, that ideal scenario and play of plays, becomes just that, a picture. That’s what I’m holding right now, imagining, wishing, for it all to become true. Again.

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