Saturday, February 14, 2009

141. Set in ice, t'was his to let her break free from the harsh cold.

The moon casted glows like a shimmer of light upon window panes, blinding but beautiful. Luscious curls, a matt of dark hair, combed and groomed to the epitome of perfection. Suddenly, everyone seemed more beautiful, an excitment on their lips as the night tingles in the air. Obligated and worthy to take her hand, he traced his fingers over her palm, luke-warm and silent, two birds with hearts in flight.

Footprints delicate on the sandy beach, a trail of delight down the vast light ochre ground, a treasure hunt but the only treasure that is couldnt be seen at all. A clasp, fused together with different pieces of two whole parts. Secret smiles, it's all in their eyes, the silent glint, a whole message flashing by, unseen by anyone else.

Like pictures of a book, scenes in a play, glimpses of the movies, he knelt to the ground, obliged and willing, lips parting, eyes watching.

"If I could write a song and make you smile, I would write till these hands of mine were sore and broken. If I could play a melody and take your breath away, I would play until these fingers of mine were bleeding and raw. If I could sing a harmony, and make your heart skip and flutter, I would sing till this voice of mine breaks down and the sound is lost, if I could make it worth while for you to stay around, I would."

Smiling, he says.

"But I don't think I can. So maybe you'll stay here anyway."



"Please, be mine."


Piece by piece, the line in the trail of sand grows deeper, and little by little, they are down to the core, to skin and beyond the soul, into the depths of the ocean, the silouhette of two bodies as one in the night.



Nicole (:

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