Neck

Normally, with her calm demeanour being complemented, she’d listen to the majestic music instead of being beautifully distracted. She’d hum the chorus, embracing each word and rhythm, but at this very second her thoughts seemed to be struggling. He, of course, was the source of her predicament.

With each word musically expressed, she could feel his lips upon her skin. Moving, gracefully, almost flowing with the background’s musical score. She smiled, placing her wine to the side of her, allowing her focus to simply be whatever it wished to be. It was the weekend, the end of the working days.

She closed her eyes, her ears simply rejoicing at the calm bestowed to her mind’s way of thinking and, of course, those lips. Those heavenly, seductive, tempting lips. He had a way about him, a sort of almost devilish charm, yet that was nothing compared to what he hid behind that smile of his.

The seconds escaped, evaporating as easily as the winter snow outside. The warm fireplace, just across the room to her left, provided the glow and the wine simply permitted her that extra allowance of freedom. He stopped kissing her back and, pressing his frame to hers, he gently moved her head to the side, to rest her against his hand. She expressed her satisfaction with an ever so slight vocal gesture. A small moan, as it were.

He started, gently, ever so carefully, to kiss her neck. Starting lower down, he moved his lips with ease as he pressed kisses to her skin. They felt like small slices of heaven, served upon a tray of warm emotion, as he continued. Moving along that skin of hers, he pressed that little bit more, his lips collecting her reaction to his warmth.

Again and again, he kissed her neck, as his hand let go of her head, to instead wrap around her waist. He drew her closer to him, embracing her, as she turned her head ever so slightly to allow his lips to find hers. Their lips met, embracing the moment, as he moved his lips away from hers, gently nudging her head to the other side. His lips, once again, found a canvas of skin to write his wishes upon. Each kiss, a word. Each motive, explanatory to her imagination.

She could feel her legs grow weaker by the second, as she felt those goosebumps start to appear upon her lower arms. She could so easily turn, to eat that slice of cake, but that wouldn’t do as she ideally wanted the whole thing. If he were cake, he’d have been devoured weeks before this very moment.

He simply knew her, had listened to her, with her actual desires being met, restored and conquered with such vigour that even the gods above must have looked away. He had time, that type of time, to simply kiss her neck with no other objective but her own pleasure. It was an unknown quantity, that resided within him and seemingly no other. Each time he kissed her neck, pressed his lips to her needing skin, she felt her entire body start to relax. Each time he touched her neck, it was almost the seconds of making love completely enraptured, within that singular expression.

Her hand found his, embracing fingers entwining together as she finally reached the point of complete, depraved, desire laden, wanton indulgence. His lips continued to find her secret places of susceptibility, embracing every single source of her hidden buttons, as he pressed his lips together again and again.

She felt her body find her wild desire and, finally, give herself the very thing she wanted. She moved from the chair, turning as she stood, only to return to straddle him. As she placed him within her, she exhaled slightly, once again taking his warm lips against hers. She could feel him, embrace him, as she looked into his eyes. Moving her hair to her right side, she smiled. He knew his orders, and those orders were to continue kissing her sensitive, beautiful, perfect neck.

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Steps

Daniel closed the door, turning, placing one foot in front of the other. He covered the distance, between the gate and the door, in record time. He’d look back, glance, with all intentions being delicate and pure, but what would be, would be just as it is. He’d come a long way, since his earlier days of strife and confusion, but that still didn’t evade the situations that he often found himself.

As he opened the gate, his emotions flicked from one side of his mind to the other, as he remembered the days where he would not even say ‘boo’ to a goose. He’d travelled since then, explored, developed and created his own new world within the universe created for him by his protective parents.

The gate closing behind him, made a clattering noise as the tepid raid started to descend from the heavens. ‘Typical’, he thought to himself, whilst also muttering other words under his breath. He’d taken step after step, creating a notion of motion from his very emotion. He’d calmed, matured, becoming a work of art from his very own words and actions. He was his very own, solitary, confided, confident problem solver. Too much, too little, with the in between being something unfamiliar to him as well as his friends.

He lifted his jacket hood over his head, feeling the light rain move around him. He’d been here before, the washing away of thoughts, familiarity, as well as the day-to-day spectacle. He wouldn’t call himself a drifter, as he had the usual safe job to undertake, but his very dreams were just that. Drifting. Escaping. Surviving within the wilds of a storm. Grasping the long climb, the adventure and adrenaline of all things. He’d run, tap dance within the very eye of said storm, but life couldn’t and wouldn’t afford him such an escape. The weight of the daily world trapped him, each person around him, to the daily schedule of defined routine.

His brow ruffled at such thoughts. The refined and sampled life reviled him. He’d grasp at normality, but lady luck often threw the dice out of the window and asked him to fetch. He wasn’t one to play by many rules, despite accepting their requirements and limitations.

His bag, to his side, strewn over his shoulder, reminded him to empty a few items upon his next stop. The clutter of life. The dank, dreary, weight of the moments. He had little baggage, despite the little actually amounting to a great, big, crazy deal. He’d been crushed, crafted, thrown and left all in the one sentence within his thoughts. If he could remove all of the sentences, the negative verbs, he truly would. He finally, through all his thoughts, managed to smile at his idiotic meandering.  Without the verbs, there might never have been any understanding, any progression, or even anything at all. The scars would bind moments to a life. His life. The wounds vivid and wild, forming the depth to which he’d experienced the world. He would, despite a few actions here and there, have it no other way.

He seldom appreciated his own efforts to secure his own life and wellbeing. He denied himself credit, due or not, for having the strength to rip his heart in two, to remove himself from a place, a situation, a lover, a smothering situation or worse.  He’d cried, in silence, away from eyes that judged despite wishing to ask for help. His pride, his resourcefulness, eventually becoming a solid foundation to remain strong. He still had his moments of weakness, of solitude and breathlessness, but that was for the shortest of times.

He was once afraid of taking steps, big, small, even medium, all those years previous.  Over the many, many years, he understood and learned that just because he’d taken a step, it did not mean that he had to be afraid or to feel fear. It could be an adventure, an experience, a lifetime event and yet, the next day, almost as if it hadn’t even happened. He’d take the same step, another similar step and it no longer seemed crazy, daunting, or anywhere near as heavy.

It’s what he was used to. That’s how he’d overcome, by taking the steps that he was really afraid of taking. When he really thought about everything, a step would only ever be a step. Moving forward would just be moving forward.  Even deciding to stand still, could be a decision. As long as he was aware.

Now, at this moment in time, walking through the rain to destination unknown, he searched for whatever he was afraid of. His mind answered with near silence. He continued to search for a valid answer and, finally, he realised that he was simply, easily, scared of not constantly, taking… steps.

Glad

I know, I do know. I’m about to type upon a keyboard, to use words and phrases that try to connect to you. I’ll give it a good shot, albeit probably not my best, but I’ll try, nonetheless.

There are, roughly, over seven billion people upon this very world at this second in time. We’re tall, small, medium and large. We’re round and we’re proud, the ying to another’s yang. We smile, we laugh, often cry and sometimes scream to the heavens above. We’re red, blonde, brunettes and sometimes somewhere in between. We’re living, breathing, thinking flesh covered machines and for that, I am glad.

There are billions upon billions of places within this world. Some dark, some dense, some magical and mostly beautiful. You can take a stroll upon a golden sand filled beach, to a solemn walk upon a French cobbled road. We can marvel at the barren arid deserts, as well as the tropical splendour of the forest filled adventures of the world and, for this, I am glad.

There are an infinitely diverse number of structures within this spinning planet. From the fantastically designed sculptures, taken from within the heart of a person, to the crazily manufactured, lob sided, monstrosities of another. The art of creation is the wealth and health for another, and, for this, I am glad.

There are over six hundred thousand words within the English language. The communication of the many, towards the few that we know and embrace within any given space and time. There are words to hold, to scold, the old, the new, the twisted and the true. Whatever we can imagine, we can describe, renew, pursue and make anew. We can express the deepest emotions, exclaim our love or describe our pain and, for this, I am glad.

There are so many moments, within each and every single day. We can take any of those moments, to show that we care, or even if we dare, to be something else. We can embrace, use our memories to retrace, the beauty created within every single one of those moments. The seconds, the minutes, or even the weeks and for this, I am glad.

There are chances for kisses within our expansive worlds. We can send a kiss to a person a thousand miles away, feeling and giving the care that another needs. We can feel the warmth of another, upon us, kissing and sharing the way they truly feel. Each kiss, precious, especially when given with the faith that the ‘one’ cares. We show, we know, we pucker, and we pleasure and for that, I am glad.

I know that I’m just one person, amongst the many, but I do have the fortitude to proclaim a certain belief. There might be billions of people in the world. The many places filled with thousands upon thousands of buildings. Within one of them, maybe many of them, I’ve kissed, and I’ve expressed myself the way many have done before. They’ve taken the moments, they’ve embraced them, held them against their hearts and used many a word to show the person what they are.  You see, no matter the people, the place, the building or the moment’s kiss, I’m just so very, very glad, that amongst all of the above, I’ve been privileged enough to have known… you. For that, I am more than glad, as glad simply doesn’t hold justice for the way I feel.

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Fairy

She sat next to the upstairs window, watching, viewing, feeling her emotions spike. Threatening her calm. Her impulsive measures, tried to apply themselves, as her thoughts exploded within her mind. She could feel her anxiety rise within her heart and, at that point, her eyes betrayed the sadness within.

If she could reach out, breaking through the window to embrace him, she truly, honestly, would. As her hand gently found the window in front of her, she felt the cold glass press its vacant feelings towards her skin. The moment, embracing, the notion, uncaring. She would scream, she’d shout, but she couldn’t as her voice could hardly even muster a murmur. She was, if she were to be honest, frozen in place.

She loved him, like no other individual upon the god forsaken world. She knew so many people, held their hands, heard their words, but they were seconds within her life of dreams and wonder. She watched as he opened the car door, as he looked back for a brief number of seconds, as his head fell and his gaze moved away from the house. From her eyes.

Slowly, the blurred motion of the moment burnt the memory into her mind. She wondered, she chastised, her heart wishing to blame herself for the situation. She could have said something, anything, but tiny voices were often so miss-understood or ignored. Helpless, void of control, with her thoughts even struggling to perceive the eventful events that had taken place.

The arguments, the shouting, the trauma of hearing their love fade into obscurity were all there. Within her memory. Her thoughts. Her being. Her eyes closed, tears forming from each, painful, word spoken, exclaimed, thrown forward and heard.

Her Mother and Father had split. Finally. Maybe. Possibly. He’d come back, try to make things better, but something was wrong, and words didn’t seem to fix anything. She was the middle ground, the person that just wanted things to remain calm. Even at her age, she knew that stability was essential. No screaming, no slamming of doors, no manipulation, or under-handed comments. She’d heard every second of their escapade of self-indulgence. To her small ears, it almost seemed like they actually enjoyed the drama. The play. The up and then inevitable down.

She moved away from the window, her head down, tears moving along her small face. She believed, she wanted wishes to be truth, but love didn’t seem to be the same as the many movies portrayed. It wasn’t a happy ever after, the romance and roses of two hearts becoming the one. She wanted to hold the both of them, together, forever, until the smiles returned. The loving words, the small kisses, the holding of a heart filled hand and the days of adventure.

She curled into a ball, on her bed, as her tears continued. She’d survive, she knew she would, with the wise head upon young shoulders being brought into the adult world a little too early. She understood most events. She’d read the forums, the adult places where the sadness of the many lurked. She realised that people simply did not resolve their problems.

Holding her pillow, a little tighter, she wondered how this would change her. She asked herself if she would also be damaged, but the small little voice within asked her to believe. She wanted to believe. Life was not perfect. Life was that jigsaw puzzle with that one missing piece. Almost perfect, fitting together with thought and precious work.

Rubbing her right eye, she caught sight of the family photo, upon the side dresser. The three of them, together, the three of them smiling upon a beautiful day. She held her hand out, trying to reach the picture as the tears appeared faster than before. It hurt, it burned her heart to pieces, thinking that they’d never be the same again.

Her tears slowed, the realisation settling into her mind, as two unhappy individuals were better off apart. They’d find new people; they’d settle and smile again. She’d smile again. Eventually. Just… not today, not on this day, despite still believing in that forever fairy tale of youth.

Words

I heard you say the words, softly speaking just as my world faded into the dreams of sleep. I heard all the words and my heart, suddenly, fruitfully, started to beat with a new rhythm. I know what they say about words, the cheap nature of the spoken tongue, but that’s perfectly fine as your actions speak far, far louder. 

I’m a believer, despite the outward charm and aloof behaviour. My heart is alive, living, throbbing and wishing to escape. It is covered in gold and that is why it’s so very, very difficult to embrace. It’s protected by the finest truths, the fabled chants and incantations. Who knew, who realised, that you would be that enchantress.

I mention the magical arts as if they realistically exist. I’m an optimist, a believer, with two feet firmly planted to the ground. I can let my imagination run riot, to fly as high as the very sky, but then return to have the deepest, most meaningful conversation you’ve ever heard. That is, of course, if I bite.

I’m light, I’m abstract, with the surface showing but a laugh and a smile. Small talk be damned, the learned lessons of easy life and shallow interaction. Come at me, come for me, let’s set the world alight and damn the very souls of the many wanderers.

I smile, just a little, my dream world embracing my thoughts. I grasp, I hold, but it’s too late. I’m slipping, falling, moving from this location to the imaginary.

I heard you, easily speaking as my world grasps the dreams of rest. I heard you say that you loved me. I heard the words stating that you needed me. That’s okay, that’s the beauty of two and, for once, I believe every single word.

 

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Bond

Daniel felt the soft sofa against his back, as he blinked a few times, clearing his eyes of any images that were still vying for his interest. He’d pulled out the extra little section that had turned into a bed and now, right at that second, he felt the calm flow over him.

Her head, resting against his chest, remained exactly in place as he finally allowed himself permission to relax. It had taken a few days, but she was finally next to him, with her leg across his waist, along with one of her arms holding him. She felt absolutely amazing.

His breathing slowed, the calm finding him, as his mind expunged all thoughts as well as feelings. He simply, finally, just wished to relax and, more importantly, to feel her in a way that might not seem normal to many. He listened, he felt, as he allowed himself to remain open to her.

As the seconds escaped through the silence and calm, he smiled. Just a little. He allowed himself to actually feel the moment instead of being some kind of emotional tyrant. He seldom allowed his emotions freedom, as they bubbled beneath the surface, but upon this one occasion he really wished to be free. He felt the calm. He witnessed the all-encompassing clarity of the unbelievable silence between them. Neither a word spoken, in the last few minutes, yet the moment was saying more than he could ever imagine.

He listened to her breathing, the silence amazing him. She flowed gently in and out as her breath escaped and entered her. It was beautiful, as their breathing attempted to match. His breathing, longer than hers, with the depth of life joining the both of them.

He’d never, ever, in his entire life, felt as calm as he felt at that very second. His mind flared, baffled at such a moment being real, as he reminded himself to simply ease his thoughts to enjoy the moment. Her energy was, to put it simply, beautiful. He had a knack, a feeling, a realisation from a lifetime of experience, as well as mistakes, of knowing when someone, or something, wasn’t quite right. In all his moments, this was the very first time that he had felt a complete and utter calm from another.

He’d spent months, weeks, minutes, calming his own inner monologue, to a point where his very soul could remain quiet amongst the turmoil of the lives around him. He could literally stand amongst the many, and emotionally feel people. He knew that every person had an energy about them, but the day-to-day turmoil and strife of life often damaged that energy. He didn’t wish to embrace a cold heart, or even a closed heart, despite his own healthily erected maze-like vestibules. He wasn’t complicated, he simply wasn’t open to connecting to anyone that didn’t seem right. He’d share, he’d explore, he’d give, but taking wasn’t his strong point.

She squeezed his pec, adjusting her head slightly as his mind drifted to the peace surrounding him. In his mind, it was almost like they were one. He hardly knew her, had only spent a small amount of time speaking with her, yet there was no rush or heavy weighted desire to jump into bed, or explore the hideous years of pain, anguish, solitude or any other prescribed measure of oddly presented bonding. She, simply, was. She, right at that moment, had connected with him in such a way that he’d previously wished would exist.

He knew that a soul, a heart, or whatever scientific measurement placed our entire being within the context of our mind, could accomplish far more than it knew what to do. Untrained, uncivilised, the knowledge simply being out of reach, yet within a moment such as this, he could feel the energy flowing between them. He would almost call it magic, but that was for fairy tales and unicorns. He’d witnessed the energy transference from emotional vampires, but nothing quite like this positive moment.

His smile increased, his mind letting go of his thoughts. He was drifting, becoming, traversing towards a new path that he was fully willing to explore. This was beyond anything he had known before, or ideally recalled at a moment’s notice. This was freedom, the true way that two people that cared, should bond with each other.

Three

Day One.

It was love at first sight. There were glances, to the side, head forward and eventually, direct contact. I held your hand, as you demonstrated the beautiful nature of your smile. I was of course, enabling myself to take every opportunity to decrease the distance between the you and, the I.

Electricity, a flame, a moment, exploded into view as my hand met yours. Such a simple, small, moment in time that we often miss. The first touch, the first contact, that eventually moves quickly towards that first kiss. Yeah, I know, I’m moving far too fast. I cannot help myself, as my naked heart beats at a quickened rate.

You part your lips, you smile, you allow your eyes to embrace the view and we’re moving towards something special. I know, I understand, words are words but actions, pure actions, mean the world. We explore our ideals, sharing the knowledge and laughter that have formed lines upon our aged skin. It’s beautiful, it’s the magical seconds as the gap becomes even smaller.

We’re so close, the kiss looming within our imaginations and then, all at once, we embrace. Your lips upon mine, my body pressed against yours, longing and presenting the completion of the rest of our probable lives.

Day Two.

Our lips are silent, as I hold you beneath me, above me, around me and all over. The words have been spoken, the laughter said and done, with only the silent moments to come. We’ve kissed nearly every inch of each other, explored, devoured, taken and reduced ourselves to hot, mildly broken and satisfied spectacles of human endeavour.

All defences abandoned, all borders open to explore, we’ve allowed ourselves to be consumed with the passionate moments that had flickered in front of our eyes the day before. We liked, we hastened, we’re here at this point in time. As I stare at your naked flourishing body, from across the room, I cannot contain my delight at the moonlight’s gaze upon your form. You are a spectacle that knows no compare. Your words warm and enlighten my heart and I feel that we could be heading towards the inevitable..

It’s truth, it’s the ideal, it’s the very notion of being more than the solitary beings we often find ourselves. The warmth can be intoxicating. The warmth can be… everything.

Day Three.

The wounds start to form within our minds. The anxiety from the messages, those new moments of scolding, passive remarks resound within our mind. We thought that we could be something new, something else, but the years before us, seemed to have poisoned the good that could have been. We didn’t resolve, we didn’t explore, when we had the chance upon our lonely, solitary moments.

We thought that yet another would resolve the problems of the other. It’s a lesson, another lost soul, abandoned and blamed for a vapid range of reasons. My heart hurts, my head aches and the heart yearns. Holding the other pillow, wishing it was you, as I feel the poisonous words expressed by the both of us, invading my thoughts. I could have said, we should have said, we would have done but instead, we are apart. Too soon, too quick, too easy to fall into the fast-paced embrace of a new moment in time. Maybe next time, it will be different, as I fail to even remotely change my own point of view. I ignore, I resist, the thought of resolving any of the inner conflict that resides within my understanding of events.

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To me, you see, the entire world is living at break neck speed and when you really think about it, in the great scheme of things, ten years could simply be equated to the math of three, singular, solitary days. If only we’d spend three days resolving, instead of trying to find someone to patch over our individual life learned faults.