Author S. K. Nicholas

Those drunken moments where living and dreaming merged without us ever knowing. Rain. Dead leaves. Stumbling through bars and cemeteries hand in hand with no sense of where our love would ever end. The world turns yet we don’t care. Rivers flow down streets, and as cars sink beneath waves, we run into the night oblivious to everything outside our perfect circle of lust and destruction. Spiders in the grass as we glide not touching the muddy earth. Misery in the wordless trees that try so hard to catch us as the storm distorts ever more. The gaze of dreamers. The smile of milk-white teeth, and the taste of something that slips in on the quiet. Flooded buildings as we take the stairwell two steps at a time. Broken windows where the rain lashes through. Seizing the seconds of some significant departure before it ever happened, such heady times are always doomed to yesterday. We shine for a while, and then reality comes and takes us back. A fever as my body shakes beneath a dusty blanket. Your hands on my forehead, and the dreams of what will never be mixed with my medicine. Your kiss and a bottle of beer to take me away from the jaws of hell. Lights on the ceiling. Lights on your body. Ageless so ageless as we hold each other, and the sweetness of your perfume so lucid upon my tongue. Barely coherent yet still burning after all these years, you still belong to me, for the scars we carved can never be erased. Detach yourself from what won’t work, and do your best to conjure something with a little more kick. Unshackled as the idiots dance beneath us, the paint on your fingernails comes off in fragments as your hands clench metal bedposts. Don’t fade away, fly back home to the shadows that call your name. So many forget that the future lies in the past. From the first stars to the first kiss, it always comes back to the beginning.