She got a subtle sense of beauty. More than flesh. More than skin. Something within, but fuck if I know how to describe it. It’s tricky, don’t you think? Skin. The elasticky stuff. It turns you on and yet it’s everywhere. It’s like finger food, and finger food is just so, y’know, meh. But a subtle sense of beauty, that’s a treat indeed. It goes deeper. It sticks around and lingers like the love of a child for its mother no matter how much time elapses between each embrace. What it consists of I couldn’t dare say for sure. How could I? The makings of such magic go way beyond a feeble brain like mine. But once you’ve gazed into the eyes of one who possess such magic, there’s no way you can ever come back. Sometimes you wish it wasn’t this way. You wish you could let it drift downstream, but how could you deny such a gift? To be touched by its hand is to be blessed, for what a hand it is. Once it sets its teeth in, you become its victim, and before you know it you’re on your way to losing your mind. Once it gets the better of you, your skull goes pop! and everything changes. Nothing remains the same. Obsession? Yeah, it’s nothing without obsession. If the one you dream of doesn’t make you foam at the mouth, then baby, it’s not love. It’s just playing games, and those who play games aren’t worth much more than a passing thought. She got a subtle sense of beauty alright, and no matter how many years come and go, she still cuts right through me. In the hours when I’m at arm’s length from the world and on the brink of yet another great despair, she dances in my mind and comes into bloom like a new moon, and just like that, the colours of life paint themselves before my very eyes.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.co.uk

A Journal for Damned Lovers on Amazon.com