Stars, countless stars. Some dead, others yet to be born. Overhead, they shimmer wordless as my fingers sink into the earth. Blades of grass. Time is still. Sounds not there, she looks up at them too, but I don’t know what she sees. Autumn. Summer. We speak words that will never be repeated. They exist for a second, and then the universe takes them away from us. Fleeting heartbeats. The flutter of leaves. Meteorites and warm beer as the night stretches far into the past. Unshaven and riddled with writers block. Numb in the summer sun, and drifting through the seasons. Sweep the rug from under my feet, and watch me come back to life. Brown eyes. Sometimes sleeping. Sometimes awake. Hypnotic breathing patterns against my chest, she drifts like a snowstorm as my arms hold her close. Romance in simple touch, unknown to everyone but me. They wouldn’t believe it anyway, but beneath this cold veneer, there’s a lover who just happened to lose his way. Warm air and closed hands. A slow embrace as somewhere in the distance a car alarm breaks the silence of the night. Sometimes, it’s not about the struggle; it’s about intimacy. A little love to starve off the pain. A moment of tenderness that helps to erase the constant layers of doubt. The flame of a candle. The scent of vanilla as she wraps herself around me. Unable to move, I lay there thinking of the stains of history, and the horrors that come to mind makes me kiss her neck. Sometimes, it gets too much for me. Things become unbearable. When she was in my arms, it was just about okay. These days, the fight against darkness is one that comes every night. See the whites of my eyes, and know that this is for real.

13 replies »

    • Wow, thank you for thinking so. I appreciate that very much. I’ve only heard one of their albums, Mezzanine. Interestingly enough, I have an idea for a novel which I got from the track ‘Inertia Creeps’. It’s far off from happening right now, but I always give it a play now and again to get those creative juices flowing.

    • Great minds, eh? I have a novel I’m working on before that as well. It’s been a long time in the making, but hopefully it’ll be worth it. It’s a love story from the perspective of a serial killer with a taste for time travel and incest. Traditional, y’know?

  1. Traditional indeed! It sounds like a tale I would have to read. I don’t dive into fiction much, but I enjoy it when I do. I suppose it’s due to my own discomfort with writing fiction. However, if I am not comfortable with it maybe I need to do more of it! Is there any pot smoking in this tale of love? I look forward to reading your work!

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